Biker Women from Earth
by Guardinthena
Summary: After crashlanding in Chicago, Amy, Carissa, and CharleyThe Biker Women from Earthdiscover from their four familiar Maritian rescurers that their troubles don't end with their wrecked ship...the fishfaced Plutarkians have selected their next target: Mars.
1. Chapter 1, Fallen Phoenix

Authors Note: I do not own the Biker Mice from Mars and probably never will. That stated, for anybody reading this or about too, this is a **MIRRORVERSE**. That means that things – the BMFM reality- is flip-flopped from the actual cartoon cannon. Thus things will be a little wacky, a little weird, but ultimately fun and hilarious. At least I hope so. I plan to introduce several of these in my fanfics, but so far I only got this written for now. In this, the Plutarkians didn't invade Mars – but Earth! Apparently the scout ships sent out to investigate the system totally skipped over the barren planet – either because they didn't think anything interesting would be there or Earth just simply looked more promising. As it stands, three women Earthers take the place of the Biker Mice – two being my own characters – which I own – called Amy and Carissa. If you'd like to use them go ahead, but ask me first before you post any fics about them. Well, I don't want to spoil anything, so one with the fic. I hope you enjoy and please tell me what you think of it at the end. I'd love to know.

A.A.N. – Oh, yeah, and the songs 'Bleeding Me,' 'Cure,' and 'Poor Twisted Me' belongs to Metallica and previewed on the CD 'Load'. 'Good Times Gone' is written by Nickelback and previewed on their alubum – Silver side up.

Biker Women From Earth

Chapter 1, Fallen Phoenix

Gliding on through the infinite black abyss known as the universe, dotted with twinkling stars that contained systems and possible other life forms of their own, was a lone starship. Not a starship of grand design, one built to harbor the remains of a species, but rather a small one, easily missed, capable of holding just a handful of crew of no less than ten, but even the crew aboard the strange alien craft wasn't even that much in number. A grand total of three were aboard and no one else.

Within the command center of the ship were its three sole occupants, gathered together and enjoying each others company, that and the loud, heavy metal music of Metallica, the song, 'Bleeding Me,' blaring out from their surround sound speakers. All three passengers sat at the three chairs surrounding the controls, but only one of them, a golden-haired brunette with curls in her wavy hair pulled up into a high ponytail, with a pair of black, daunting sunglasses with green tinted lenses on, drove the ship.

The pilot adorned herself in an unzipped black leather vest with a tight-fitting green shirt on that exposed her well-built midriff that went well with her short, stocky frame. A brown belt held up a pair of navy blue pants while a green belt pouch hung around her left hip and a strange purple gun was holstered to her right leg. Metal kneepads were tied off around her knees while a pair of black biker boots rested on the floor, the left foot tapping in time with the beat of the song. The woman's skin was a soft peach while her lips were a vibrant cherry red. Her face, flanked by two strands of her bangs and her wild, curly hair – that looked like it hadn't been brushed recently – gave her stone-set face a bit of a woodsy feel to her. Lastly, a red scarf was tied around her throat and around her right wrist while a pair of brown gloves covered her hands, though the fingers had been cut out. The glove on her right hand had something strange resting on top of it, something that resembled something close to an extra round of bullets, but upon closer examination weren't.

As she carefully drove the ship through the depths of space at a speed lesser than that of light, she bobbed her head to the crashing, exciting tunes of Metallica. Though her comrade to her right seemed to be enjoying the song a lot more than her. The fiery red head was enjoying the song too the extreme, complete with air guitar and massive head bobbing- so much so that her auburn hair was flashing in her face and then out, in and then out, lashing out against the air as only a punk rocker could do. Her action though, however innocent it was, was causing the pilot to be a bit distracted, as the light of the room continued to flash constantly on and off of a particular metal adornment on her face. It was a silver mask that covered the right side of her face, but the pilot determinedly tried to push pass the distraction so as not to ruin her friends' fun. The ghostly pale-skinned woman- suggesting that she didn't get that much sun or had a medical condition – was dressed in less clothing than her two companions. She only had on a pair of jean-blue gloves, also with the fingers cut out, covering her hands, along with a maroon scarf tied off backwards around her neck. A gold belt buckled around her waist, helping her already skin-tight sky blue jeans hold up around her waist. The jeans had gold studs running down the sides to help further attract attention to her fine-slender legs. Silver kneepads protected her knees while a pair of blue leather boots adorned her feet. All that she wore for a shirt was little more than a crisscrossing piece of black fabric that followed the same direction as the pair of green, leather bandoleers that crisscrossed over her breasts and around her back. If one were to glance at her it would look as if she wasn't wearing anything on but the bandoleers, but a quick double take, and a bit more staring, would reveal the black fabric underneath.

Finally, to the pilot's left, was the last companion onboard the vessel. She stood three inches shorter than the pilot while the wild woman with the locks of red hair stood taller than both of them, at a grand five foot six, but the last companion's slender body often gave the misimpression that she was actually smaller. Her skin was a soft, silky olive brown with black hair that reached longer in the front and got shorter in the back, thereby being cut into a 'V' shape. The longest length of her hair that rested against the sides of her cheeks was dyed a dark purple. Her face was soft and quiet as she rested her head back on the palms of her hands and soaked up in the music screaming back at her. Her eyes were closed, or rather – her eye. Her other eye, the left, was hidden behind a black eye-patch. The frail looking woman dressed only in a pair of dark blue leather pants with a red belt, heavy, thick combat boots, red kneepads and a black shirt with long sleeves. Though her most particular piece of clothing was the strange, purple metal box that lay pressed against her breasts and held in place by cables of red metal that wrapped around to another flat, purple metal box on her back. The odd contraptions, when looked at by someone else, might have thought that it had something to do with keeping her slender, feminine, bionic right arm attached to her body.

She was leaning back in her seat, right eye closed, and enjoying the rare moment of peace. Upon a glance, it looked like she could have been sleeping.

As they traveled through the depths of space the fiery, energetic redhead tossed her head back as the song came to the guitar-solo and began slamming down on her air guitar with gusto, her face screwed up in hard, fun-loving concentration. Suddenly the other woman with the black hair came alive. She cracked her one good eye open and a slow smile cut her face as she brought her hands out from under her head and started up the air-drum that accompanied the guitar shortly into it. Catching her friend from across the way, the wild eyed, auburn haired woman smiled from ear to ear and continued to jam out.

The last of the three, the pilot, watched her two friends from behind the shades, enjoying this rare moment of peace in their lives. A grin finally began to slip across her ice-cold lips, and her foot, hidden away beneath the steering wheel- which was shaped into the likeness of a motorcycle's– began to tap with more energy. She waited patiently for the guitar and drum solo to end, and the words of the song to begin again.

After some few seconds the two instruments were nearing the end of their time and the singer was just about too start. Their timing was perfect. No sooner had the singer started bellowing out his dark words for his song than the pilot joined in with her own voice, deeper than a typical woman's but still feminine in its nature. Her smile was finally consuming her entire face as she cried out at the top of her lungs to be heard, if only faintly, about the music.

"Yeee-arrg!

I am the beast that feeds the feast,  
I am the blood,  
I am release!  
Come make me pure,  
Bleed me a cure!  
I'm caught, I'm caught, I'm caught un-dar…"

As the back-up singers joined in with the lead singer of the song, so did the wild woman and the quiet one began singing too in company with their friend, their voices actually matching and outdoing the overbearing music with their own combined voices.

"Caught under wheels roll,  
I take that leash,  
I'm bleeding me!  
Can't stop to save my sooooooul!  
I take the leash that's leading me,  
I'm bleeding me!  
Oh, I can't take it!  
I can't take it!  
I can't take it! No! No!  
Oh, the bleeding of me!

I'm diggin' my way,  
I'm diggin' my way to somethin',  
I'm diggin' my way to something better!

I'm pushin' to stay,  
I'm pushin' to stay with somethin',  
I'm pushin' to stay with something better!  
With something better!"

As the song came to an end the group burst into a fit of laughter that reverberated and echoed back at them from off the metallic walls, each of their voices sounding like the innocent chimes of children's laughter ringing through an open valley field at the break of dawn.

As their laughter came to a slow trickle, the redhead of the group threw back her head and released a wild howl of delight. "AOOOOW! Replay! Replay! We gotta do that again! The baddest motorcycle mamajamma in the universe has to do her guitar solo one more time! Hit that rewind button, Amy!"

Just as the auburn-haired woman was reaching over pass the pilot, and not even waiting for her to do it or for a response of a 'yeah, let's do it again,' the short-cut, black haired woman with the soft, yet distinguishable oriental features snapped out her mechanical hand like lightening and caught the other woman's hand in her own metallic one.

"Hey! What gives?" The pale-skinned, redheaded woman pouted across the way to her long-time friend.

The olive-brown skinned woman gave her friend a pointed look and then turned her attention back to the tight-lipped pilot, releasing her friend's hand with a warning squeeze before doing so, almost as if too say too her that this was not a time for fun and games anymore, but a time for seriousness. As she turned and asked the pilot her question, her voice rung out with the most defined significance that gave the air about them a sort of gravity that weighed down on all three of their shoulders.

"How much farther are we from home?"

There was a moment of silence as the question soaked in through their ears and settled down upon their brains. After a few precious moments, Amy answered, "Well, we'll be passing by Mars soon enough and if you know your astronomy, that means we're one planet away from home."

"Yeah, so? I already knew that!" The auburn-haired woman grumbled out and threw herself back against her chair, crossing her arms over her chest in the process. "I knew that when you said we had come up on the asteroid belt that guarded the inner core planets to our system!" A huge smile began to break out across her face to replace her mock-angered glare as she gazed out into the depths of space. Her crazy smile soon became accompanied by a daring twinkle in her emerald eyes as she continued to say, "Then we got jumped by those Plutarkian scout ships and–!"

"And nearly got killed!" The brunette cut her off with a stern, motherly-type tone of voice. "Do you even realize how close I nearly crashed this ship against those speeding asteroids trying to get away from them, Charlene?" 

Charley turned her attention back to her friend, her smile and twinkle in her eyes fading from her face as she shrugged her shoulders and guessed, "I dunno. Twice?" 

Amy's lips scrunched together into a tight, small frown, and not for the first time. She really wished that Charley would stop acting like a little five-year old sometimes! She was really quite smart, she knew that, but ever since…..

Amy stole her eyes away from her ghostly pale friend and returned her full attention back to the black abyss before them, filled with stars and constellations that she was currently relying on to get home. Including a certain red star that they were quickly approaching at break-neck speed. Her body hunched a bit more over the steering bars and growled out through her teeth, "More than I care to count! We're lucky we came out in one piece with only the radar, communication board, and navigation shot!" Behind the shades Amy's hazel eyes narrowed as she slowly turned them back on Charley and sighed, saying, "When _are_ you going to fix it anyway? I need those operational to get us back to Earth."

Charley just shrugged and laid back further against her chair, throwing her hands up behind her head for support. "What's the rush? We gotta couple of millions of miles to go before we even reach Earth's orbit around the sun. 'Sides, I think we'll know that if we hit the sun we've gone too far."

Amy's hand flashed out like lightening and slapped Charley's arm, causing the redhead to cry out and leap forward. She began examining the red mark that now marred her otherwise flawless pear-white skin. "Ow! That hurt!"

Amy's hand was already back on the steering bar as she spoke with a tone of voice that boarded no amusement while she guided the ship close to the surface of one of Mars' moons, Phobos, at least she thought it was from its irregular shape. "Charley, it's _extremely_ important I get that stuff back on-line! Without navigation I'm driving blind! It's not like Earth is some immobile obstacle in the universe! It moves, and just because I can recognize it by its blue aura as a star _doesn't_ mean I know its exact position and that I'm driving right for it! Hell, we're lucky that Mars was passing by that field near where we got out! If I hadn't of spotted that little red star we'd be as good as lost till ya got the navigation back up and running! Still, I'm pullin' a stop at Mars and waiting till you get it operational! After all, our communication board, which may I remind you was damaged as soon as those stink-fish scout ships spotted and fired on us, was smashed! I have no idea if they relayed our position to any other ships in the area! Which I wouldn't know if they were any to worry about since our _radar_ is also capotes!"

"If there are any we'd have smelt 'em by now." Added in the last of the group with a bit of a smile. The comment got Charley laughing but Amy just glared ice and fire at their friend and said, "That's not funny Carissa."

"Ah, loosen up. Besides," Charley began as she tried to calm down from her fit of giggles, "I think it's safe to say that there aren't any more around here. After all, we haven't been shot at yet, that or maybe they just forgot about us or those scout ships that got smashed in the field or that Carissa and I shot down didn't even get a chance to radio any of their buddies."

"I really hope your right Charley. For all of our–"

THRA-DOOOM!

The three women cried out in shock as they were lurched forward, flung against the controls from the massive explosion that rocked the back of their ship. The interior lighting of the ship flickered on and off, threatening to shut down, while here and there a control panel blew. Carissa, Amy, and Charley were flung back a moment later and toppled out from their chairs, but it seemed that no sooner had they hit the floor than Amy was back up and at her seat, knuckles white as they latched onto the steering bars and pulled up hard, trying to save the ship from crashing face-first into the moon of Phobos.

Sir, buzzed the voice of the gunner over the Plutarkian to the commander of the starship hiding out just beyond the moon of Phobos from the sight of Mars. Target identified as an Earther Drone Thunderpike, only used by the human population of from the planet _Earth_. 

The commander's fierce orange eyes lit with resentment as he recalled those hairless apes from the third planet of this solar system. They had been hell to fight with, costing Plutark valuable resources both in money and in vital materials to try and conquer that world. Its people, for all their faults, had turned out to be harder to kill than most races the Plutarkian Empire had ever run across. They had nearly lost the war against those Earthers, but in the end they had managed to defeat them through their own instinctual greed and a bit of treachery.

"Impossible!" The commander reasoned over the that displayed the young gunner's face. "Weren't all humans destroyed in the Plutarkian occupation of Earth!" He hit the button that terminated the link, enraged that the idiot had actually thought that there were any human beings left in the universe. But then, the commander caught himself suddenly as a faint memory drifted back to him. He rubbed his chin in thought, pondering on that impossible notion and yet…there could be no other explanation. How long ago had it been? Three? Five years ago? They had been the only Earther's to escape Earth after all, well… asides from those that the Plutarkians had kidnapped and sold into slavery.

"Hmm, I wonder….?" His mind pondered the impossibilities a moment more, then, if it were true, the possible rewards he could reap from this. The sweet satisfaction he would have himself for killing the last of the free human race. He quickly reactivated the com.link and growled out to the gunner, "Gunner, blow that ship to the seven scattered galaxies! NOW!!"

_**The man takes another bullet  
He keeps them all within  
He must seek, no matter how it hurts  
So don't fool again  
**_

The heavy music of Metallica continued to play undisturbed as the conflict raged on, although its volume had been turned down considerably and was no longer blaring at the three women, although it was still loud enough to hear – not that they were paying any attention to it now.

Before the second blast even rocked the ship Carissa had jumped up and slammed her flesh fist down on the button to raise shields while Amy concentrated on trying to get the ship's engines responding again, but all the computer spat back out at her was 'negative' and 'error.' Luckily the shields were working, otherwise they would have been little more than a smoking pile of space debris above Mars.

_**He thinks the answer is cold and in his hand  
He takes his medicine  
The man takes another bullet  
He's been fooled again**_

Once Carissa had done her part she pushed up and away from the sparking control panel as Charley jumped on over with a fire extinguisher and let loose with the foam onto the fire-hazard.

"Shoot!" Amy spat out in her typical tomboy voice as she pounded on the control board. "The engines are shot!" She twisted up and out of her chair, quickly crossing the space between her seat and the full-length windshield that revealed a nice bit of space to them, a furious scowl across her face. "Looks like somebody out there doesn't like us."

Charley and Carissa followed her over to the left side of the ship and peered out. Carissa folded her hands onto her hips, a look of disgust plastering her face, while Amy crossed her arms, her expression emotionless while Charley's took on a look of absolute loathing, her emerald eyes sparking with extreme prejudice.

_**Uncross your arms and take  
And throw them to the cure, say...  
I do believe  
Uncross your arms now  
Take 'em to it, say...  
I do believe  
I do believe**__**  
**_

"Yeah." Carissa toned with a voice more feminine than her friends', but just as wearied and irritated. "_Somebody's_ lookin' an awful like Plutarkians. I can almost smell them from here."_**  
**_

"Looks like we've cross with one of their Destroyers." Charley said, a note of eagerness filling her usually kind, yet wild voice as she started away from the window and over towards a seemingly empty wall. She opened up a hidden panel and entered in a quick key sequence into the control panel there. The entire sidewall slid open, revealing the hidden cash of weaponry there. Smiling like a demon, she reached over and picked up her favorite weapon out of them all – the hand-held laser cannon.

_**The lies tempt her and she follows  
Again she lets him in  
She must believe to fill the hollow  
She's been fooled again**_

"Vap 'em!" Amy grinned out over to her friend as she spied and wisely appreciated the destructive capability of the weapon and of its extra potential in the hands of her friend._****_

Uncross your arms and take  
And throw them to the cure, say...  
I do believe  
Uncross your arms now  
Take 'em to it, say...  
I do believe  
I do believe

Charley threw the leather strap over her shoulder and flipped off the safety switch, charging the gun soon after and smiling a smile only a maniac could give. She lovingly patted the laser cannon like it was some loyal, obedient dog. "Whadda say we fry the fins off those stink-faces?"

"Do it!" Concurred the shade-wearing brunette of the group with a sweet grin beginning to break out across her stone-cold lips.

"One fish-faced barbeque coming up!" Charley crooned happily and dashed for the air lock.

They watched their wild redhead companion go as she took off for the air lock, then quickly Amy slipped back on over the controls, hoping to get them too respond to her at last. Carissa jumped on over to see what she could do to help.

_**Betting on the cure  
It must get better than this  
Betting on the cure  
Yeah everyone's got to have the sickness  
'Cause everyone seems to need the cure  
Precious cure  
**_

Charley picked up her red and gray helmet from beside her seat before she left and slammed it over her head. She then reached up and pressed a button on the side of her helmet that pulled back a strip on her helmet revealing a set of more buttons. By touch alone and memory, she slid her hand over and pressed the second button, then drew her hand back as the metal frame slid back over them and a blue force field fissled into existence over her face. The button she had pressed activated her 'Deep-space mode' on her helmet, allowing for her to breathe in otherwise unbearable areas.

And for the stunt she was about to pull, she was gonna need it.

Once inside the air lock she hastily slipped a leather belt strap around her waist that was connected back to the wall so that she, or any other occupant, was not to be ripped or jarred out into space upon expected air-lock failures. She then began entering in the sequence required to open the door out to space.

It was as she was working at it that the ships' internal com.line and monitor sparked to life in the room, broadcasting a picture of Amy's worried face in the corner of the air-lock room while her rough but anxious voice came over the end of the com.line, along with the music of Metallic, Cure, still playing softly in the background over the laser fire.

_**Betting on the cure  
'Cause it must be better than this  
Betting on the cure  
Yeah everyone's got to have the sickness  
'Cause everyone seems to need the cure  
Precious cure**_

I do believe

Charley, what are you doing? Wait for the air lock to decompress the air inside the ship back into the ship. Do you have any idea what'll happen if you open that door before– 

_**Betting on the cure  
Yeah it must be better than this  
Need to feel secure  
Yeah it's got to get better than this, this, this  
It must get better than this  
Betting on the cure  
Yeah, everyone's got to have the sickness  
'Cause everyone seems to need the cure**_

I do believe  


Charley just grinned back up at the concerned face of her friend through her visor and hit the final button to open the bay doors. The last she saw of Amy's face was a look of horror, then what she thought was the beginnings of a scream forming her name, but the words were lost on her as the doors slung open and all the air was sucked right out of the room and into the dark vacuum of space. If not for the sling wrapped around her waist and the ends of it wrapped around some massive wheels back in the interior of the wall, Charley would have been sucked and flung out with the invisible air. As it was she made it only to the door and then was yanked brutally back by the catch system. She gave a grunt that echoed around the inside of her helmet, then half chuckled as she realized she couldn't hear Amy's voice and realized that it was because there was no air in space, which meant no sound, which meant no more of Amy's lectures.

Honestly, that woman needed to get out and have a good time. Stop worrying about so many things that were irreverent to the now. Speaking of the now…

Charley dropped her train of thought as she caught sight of the Plutarkian Destroyer that had tagged their ship. She lifted her foot up and pressed it against the edge of the door, then lifted the now weightless laser cannon up and took aim at the Plutarkian Destroyer just hovering some few dozen yards away.

Before she even had a chance to fire though, the gunner of the ship spotted her and shot two concentrated blasts her way. Charley saw the two fateful red laser blasts of energy coming her way and decided on two plausible routes within the span of a short second. Option one: return fire and get smeared across the side of the ship from the laser blasts powerful enough to decimate a ship, or Option Two: Jump back inside.

She opted for Option Two and dove back inside the ship, but in her frantic dive to get back into the safety of the ship she had accidentally tossed the laser cannon out in the depths of space, and before she had realized what she had done, she slammed her fist down onto the red 'close' button and was sealed off from the dark, black emptiness of space.

And not a moment too soon.

One of the blasts missed the ship, but the second struck the shield just as it resurrected itself back over that side. Though no damage was done the force of it rocked the ship and threw Charley from one side of the air lock to the other. She slammed into the opposite wall, already feeling bruised around the middle from the force of getting yanked by the safety noose around her waist and the gravity of empty space sucking her out against it.

Groaning, she slipped out of the noose and weakly slammed her fist against the open button and stumbled back into the command room, crashing a moment later onto the floor.

Strains of abused heavy metal wafted to her, and she lazily lifted her dizzy head up to the control board that hoisted the CD player, and met the back of Amy and Carissa's heads.

_**Oh poor twisted me  
Oh poor twisted me  
I feast on sympathy  
I chew on suffer, I chew on agony  
**_

With a frustrated sigh, Amy twisted her head around and glanced over her shoulder to Charley as she came flying back into the room, landing flat on her face. Lucky for her she had her helmet on, or else she would have been nursing a broken nose. "Charlene, it works better if you shoot _before_ the weapon flies out the door."

"Yea, well, um…" Charley grumbled as she pushed herself off the ground and removed her helmet from her head so they could hear her appropriately, "timings everything."_**  
**_

"So whadda we gonna do?" Carssia asked as she looked over towards Amy, a bit of a genuine fear shinning in her one good eye as the faint, plausible notion of being recaptured by the Plutarkains entered it.

"Well, that's easy darling," Amy said with a half-hearted chuckle, "that last blast rocked us too close to Mars's atmosphere and we've substained damage to the engines."

"Yeah, so?" Charley buzzed, not at all as knowledgeable in the workings of the cosmos as her friend was.

A grim smile plastered itself across Amy's face as she explained it quite simply for them both to understand, while Charley hurried forward and dropped down into her seat. "We're going down! So buckle up ladies, its gonna be a bumpy ride!"

With that her fists tightened onto the handlebars of the ships' steering as the ship took a plunge down towards the red sands of Mars' surface, caught up in its weak gravitational pull. The whites of her knuckles shown through as she tried hard to regain control of the steering, but the ship simply refused too respond. Carissa and Charley had already locked their seat belts over them. Amy's was already on.

_**Swallow whole the pain  
Oh it's too good to be  
That all this misery  
Is just for oh poor twisted me**_

As the brunette Earther wrested for control of the ship Carissa and Charley sat in their seats, wide-eyed as they watched the ground of the red planet get closer and closer. Both were holding onto the nearest thing they could find, Carissa her seat, and Charley the dashboard in front of her.

As they broke through into the atmosphere of Mars the vessel began to heat up. They could see the air outside their vessel whistle and scream around them in a fiery gold, orange, and red fireball at their descent. If it hadn't been for the force field then they would have been boiled from the heat of reentry.

Carissa pressed her one good eye closed as she felt her heart get lodged up in her throat, her stomach soon following as the sensation of being on a roller coaster came to mind, though, unfortunately, this coasters track wasn't finished. And she could only guess what was soon going to happen if Amy couldn't get the ship to pull up.

As if fate was confirming the death-images in her mind, she heard a thundering explosion towards the back of the ship and was abruptly lurched forward. Throwing open her good eye, she caught both Amy and Charley just in time as they two were thrown forward from the explosion, then as Charley was thrown back she caught her frightful gaze and smiled- smiled hugely. "Immediate destruction! What a rush, huh Carissa!" 

Carissa just stared at her friend dumbly, too speechless and amazed at just how crazy Charley really was.

_**Poor mistreated me  
Poor mistreated me  
I drown without a sea  
Lung fills with sorrow, lungs fill with misery**_

"Dang it!" Amy growled as sharply turned to Carissa, saying as quickly as she could and as calmly as she could manage despite her own fear swelling up inside of her. "Carissa, get 'em ready to eject! We're fleeing this floundering bird!"

"Greatest thing I've heard you say all day!" Carissa said as she lunged froward and pounded a key sequence into the still-functioning control panel. All three of them looked back over their shoulders, waiting breathlessly for yet another secret door to slide on open at the farthest end of the room. As soon as they saw that the door was lifting, Charley and Carissa unbuckled their seat belts and carefully, and yet as quickly as they could, retrieved their helmets from under their seats and headed for the back.

Unable to give up just yet though, Amy yanked down once more onto the steering bars, praying to whatever all-power would listen will all her heart that the ship would finally let up and obey. Much to her pleasure she was rewarded with an abrupt release and the ship pulling up and leveling.

"Yeees!" She cried out, but as she tried to soften out their descent the gears locked up again and her spirits flat-lined. Her face turned stony grim once more. "Well, bought us a bit of time." She mused as she briefly examined the never-ending expanse of red sands beneath them. But her mood quickly changed as she her eyes followed the landscape too the horizon. The dunes began to flatten out, thinning into flatlands that were broken up by miles upon miles of aimlessly strewn rocks. And beyond that was what made her voice hitch in alarm, what made her shades slip down the bridge of her nose to reveal her frightened hazel eyes as she continued to say, "But not much!"

Quickly rising up to greet their ship was a massive crack in the red earth, spreading outward and soon consuming the whole horizon with its vast, rugged, and cracked depths. It was a horizon-endless trench, a ravine, a canyon system of continental proportions, filled with valleys, side canyons and other rock protrusions that would tear their ship apart.

_**Inhaling the deep dark blue  
Oh woe is me  
Such a burden to be  
The poor mistreated me**_

To finally reach the shore  
Survive the storm  
Now you're bare and cold  
The sea was warm  
So warm, you bathe your soul again  
Bathe it again, and again, and again

Hastily she flung herself out of her seat and joined her two friends at the back of the command room, who had seen the scene too and looked as frightened as her. "We're leaving, NOW!!" Amy called out in alarm as she pumped her way to them, helmet in hand. "Before we leave the surface behind!"

As they gathered before the secret door as it lifted up into the folds of the spaceships roof, they found their nervousness began to melt away as they laid their frightened eyes upon the three wonderful machines it hide within.

Three gleaming motorcycles.

Carissa thrust out her bionic hand as Amy tried hurrying past them to get onto her bike, her helmet already on and a yellow force field covering her face. The brunette looked at her friend as if she were crazy for even holding her back, but the defeated look in her eyes caused her to check her own inner fears.

"Too late for daring escapes this time, Amy. Look. We'll be over in three seconds at the rate we're going, and then descending straight into it."

Amy twisted her head around and gazed back through the windshield and realized, with a sinking heart, that her friend was right, but she refused to give up hope. "We might not be able to escape successfully from this old bird, but let's see if we survive the crash! Charley, Carissa, helmets on and take a seat. Let's see how far we can get."

"Got it." Carissa said as she slipped her helmet on over her head and held down the button on the side of it. A purple force field fissiled into existence.

"And…" Amy spoke once more, softer and kinder than her normal tone, "I-I better find you two still with me when we land."

"Pth!" Charley cockily spluttered as she waved aside Amy's words. "Of course we will! You can't get rid of us this easily!"

Amy eyed Charley wearily, but with a bit of a smile as the redhead thrust her own helmet on her head, a daredevil 'I'll-survive' grin, and started for the chairs. Amy and Carissa followed their taller companion, glad that when their own spirits seemed to fail, Charley never let them die.

_**To finally reach the shore  
Survive the storm  
Now you're bare and cold  
The sea was warm  
So warm, you bathe your soul again**_

Good to see my friend  
Oh woe is me  
Such a burden to be  
Oh poor twisted me  
Oh poor twisted me  
Oh poor twisted me  


Like the fated phoenixes that knew that they must soon burn and die to be revived, the three walked back to the controls with the knowledge in mind that they were akin to the glorious birds of fire. That they, over the course of their short life, had burned brightly and fought on hard and viciously, had given life a good run. But now, faced with their own impending deaths, they stood courageous even then as they had before in the war back home, in other circumstance that seemed undefeatable yet that they had overcome. They remained in control, at the helm, unwilling to surrender, even if they weren't sure that they would be able to arise anew from the destruction of this pile of ashes.

Seating herself and buckling up, Amy's hand snapped out and pressed the 'next' button on the CD changer as the next song on their Metallica-Load CD began to start up – Wasting my Hate. That wasn't a song she wanted to hear in what could have been their final moments together, so instead she pressed the 'next' button on the CD changer, skipping to the next CD entirely, then, she skipped ahead to the end of the CD.

Carissa and Charley took their own seats and buckled in, ignoring her. They only turned their attention to her when the familiar slow, sad strum of an electric guitar sparked from the stereo system. The two instantly recongized the song and couldn't help but smile sadly at Amy in silent appreciation, friendship, and devoted loyalty.

_**Lost it on a chesterfield**_

_**Or maybe on a gambling wheel**_

_**Lost in it a diamond mine**_

_**It's dark as hell and hard to find**_

_**Well you can climb to the top of the highest tree**_

_**You can look around but you still won't see**_

_**What I'm looking for**_

_**Where the good times gone**_

_**Where the good times gone**_

_**All that stupid fun and all that shit we've done**_

_**Where the good times gone**_

_**Well I still don't know**_

Amy took hold of the steering bars and began to pull on them hard with an aura of calmness about her-though inwardly she worried- over the pillar of stone rising up to great them. Pushing and pulling with all her might, she hoped against hope that her uncanny lucky streak hadn't failed her yet, and that the ship would respond. Her hands wrapped around the steering bars and pulled to her left with all her strength. Carissa and Charley were soon beside her, helping her with their own strength to pull the ship aside and avoid the head-on collision that would end their life in a flash.

Under the pressure of all their strength combined, the steering gave in and the ship responded swiftly, not that it was good enough. The shield still hit the rock wall and shattered it, as well as the shields, in a roar of noise and racket that attacked their ears and made them cringe.

The force of the side-on collision by their force fields sent them spinning through the air, a fireball, with emergency lights blaring and flashing bright crimson red into their faces as they crashed into the side of the ravine wall and hideously ground down along its length, falling further, deeper, into the black opaque inkiness of the misty ravine.

_**Out in the back in the old cornfield**_

_**Underneath the tractor wheel**_

_**Thought I'd dig 'till I found it first**_

_**Broke my back and died of thirst**_

_**Well you can bribe the devil, you can pray to God**_

_**You can sell off everything you've got**_

_**And you still won't know**_

_**Where the good times gone**_

_**Where the good times gone**_

_**All that stupid fun and all the shit we've done**_

_**Where the good times gone**_

_**And you still don't know**_

"**I never planed to die this waa-hay-yeeeah!" **Charley screamed out above the cry of the ships klaxon alarms, the song, above the dull roar of the broken ravine side as they slammed along down its length, and the hideous, ear-splitting, sickening sound of metal scrapping against rock and being ripped apart, scarred, and melted by the extreme heat of their descent.

Charley's final word was nigh unhearable as the ship smashed into an outcropping and sent the vessel spiraling down into the darkness as black and all consuming as space itself. Carissa screamed, Amy screamed, and Charley soon followed as they plummeted into the depths of the alien worlds' interior, surely to never hit ground but instead a molten core.

_**Saw it on the silver screen**_

_**Preacher says "don't know what it means"**_

_**Last page down in a comic book**_

_**Bought me a map, told me where to look**_

_**It ain't carved of stone or made of wood**_

_**And if you pay for it then it ain't no good**_

_**And you still won't know**_

_**What I'm looking for**_

_**Where the good times gone**_

_**Where the good times gone**_

_**All that stupid fun and all the shit we've done**_

_**Where the good times gone**_


	2. Chapter 2, Crashlanding

**Authors Note:** I do not own the Biker Mice from Mars and probably never will. That stated, for anybody reading this or about too, this is a **MIRRORVERSE**. That means that things – the BMFM reality- is flip-flopped from the actual cartoon cannon. Thus things will be a little wacky, a little weird, but ultimately fun and hilarious. At least I hope so. I plan to introduce several of these in my fanfics, but so far I only got this written for now. In this, the Plutarkians didn't invade Mars – but Earth! Apparently the scout ships sent out to investigate the system totally skipped over the barren planet – either because they didn't think anything interesting would be there or Earth just simply looked more promising. As it stands, three women Earthers take the place of the Biker Mice – two being my own characters – which I own – called Amy and Carissa. If you'd like to use them go ahead, but ask me first before you post any fics about them. The song, 'Imaginary' belongs to Evanescence as featured on the CD Evanescence- Fallen. Well, I don't want to spoil anything, so on with the fic. I hope you enjoy and please tell me what you think of it at the end. I'd love to know.

**A.A.N.** – I would also like to thank Rebelgirl666, Rynorean, and Kezzyczka for the comments. I really appreciate it. They really helped me to sit back down and finally write up and finish these next two chapters.

* * *

**Biker Women from Earth****Chapter 2, Crash landing and Front Door Surprises**

A spark of electricity zapped her flesh, sparking not only her pain receivers in her body to life, but her mind as well. With a groan and hiss reality began to slip back to her. Amy began to move; though her actions were sluggish and a song playing from the stereo, which had miraculously survived the crash, still played out its songs.

**_I linger in the doorway_**

_**Of alarm clock screaming**_

_**Monsters calling my name**_

_**Let me stay**_

_**Where the wind will whisper to me**_

_**Where the raindrops**_

_**As they're falling tell a story**_

She found herself lying in her seat, her helmet on and her head on her shoulder, her body hunched in repose. Sleep was clawing at her eyelids, bidding her with sweet words to return to the realm of dreams and black opacity. The offer was quite temping. She was so tired, both physically and spiritual. She wanted rest.

She wanted a long, long rest. And the soft singing of Evanescence wasn't helping.

_**In my field of paper flowers**_

_**And candy clouds of lullaby**_

_**I lie inside myself for hours**_

_**And watch my purple sky fly over me**_

But there was a numbness in her being, her aching body, and the new sharp pain from the spark that had burnt her skin. She needed to come to, to breech through the deep sea of dreams that held her down. She needed to reach its surface, reality; Charley and Carissa needed her.

Charley and Carissa. The crash.

Her eyes finally flew wide open; the tendrils of sleep no longer having say over them, and her blood pumping adrenaline through her body. Her heart was rising through her chest, beating a new tempo of fear.

_**Don't say I'm out of touch**_

_**With this rampant chaos- your reality**_

_**I know well what lies beyond my sleeping refuge**_

_**The nightmare I built my own world to escape**_

"Carissa? …Charley?" She called out into the darkness surrounding her, broken up only by the occasional flash and pop from a broken circuit board. Even the emergency lights were out. Her voice came out weak though, soft and hoarse. Though her mind was wide-awake apparently her voice hadn't caught up with her just yet.

She blinked her eyes several times and lifted her hand to deactivate the shield on her helmet. With its usual fizzle and buzz, the shield dropped and the full effect of darkness kissed her aching eyes. She blinked painfully against the all-consuming darkness and called out again, with more strength and anxiety, "Carissa? Charley?!"

A precious space of silence went by from them and her fear tripled within an instant. Amy tried pulling herself up from out of her seat but found her legs pinned by some broken pipe, which explained the tingling needle-like sensation in her right leg.

"Carissa! Char–!?"

"Stop shouting. I'm here." The voice sounded groggy, soft, but familiar.

**_In my field of paper flowers_ **

_**And candy clouds of lullaby**_

_**I lie inside myself for hours**_

_**And watch my purple sky fly over me**_

An instant weight lifted from her shoulders and she breathed a huge sigh of relief. "Oh thank the Matrix! Carissa, are you hurt?"

Amy reached out a hand towards her left where Carissa had been sitting and touched the smooth metallic surface of her bionic shoulder. Instantly she felt Carissa's metallic hand fly up and grab for her hand and give it a reassuring squeeze.

She could now hear Carissa's own heavy sigh of relief.

"No. No…I'm okay. A bit banged up but I'm okay." There was a moment of silence, then Carissa added through the darkness, "My side of the ship's all caved it."

"Are you trapped?" Amy inquired, taking her hand from her shoulder and placing both of them on the pipe that had fallen at an angle across her lap.

"No. I can squeeze out."

"Good, 'cause I _am_ stuck. A pipe's trapping me." In the darkness she could hear some shuffling off from Carissa's side as the cyborg tried squeezing out from her seat. As her eyes continued to adjust to the light she began to make out her shape in the darkness while Amy tried lifting the pipe, but to no avail. "…Think you can help me out here? It's cutting off the circulation to my leg."

"Yeah. Sure. Give me a second."

Carissa stumbled her way out from her seat and into the remodeled and much smaller space between their seats. "Okay. I'm out. So where's the pipe?"

"On my legs!" Amy growled out, her patience slipping quickly as the tingling sensation in her leg became more and more painful.

"Okay. Okay, don't get snappy with me. Now just hold on a sec and…ah! There you are! My, aren't you just darling."

Amy turned her head away from the bright glare of red light that flooded out from Carissa's one good eye. The dramatic change in light, even from it, hurt her eyes. "Ieesh! Mind warnin' me next time?"

"Where's Charley?" Carissa inquired as, now with light, she could see Amy's situation all the better. A rather moderate sized pipe had fallen and pinned her to her seat, but what got her was that it was at an angle. As she reached down and grabbed the end of it with both her hands, she cast her gaze over across Amy and over to Charley's end of the room, where the oriental woman gave out a gasp mingled with a shriek.

"Charlene!"

Amy rubbed her eyes between her thumb and forefinger and gingerly opened them. She peeked out through narrowed eyes off in Charley's direction and gave more or less the same frightened shriek that Carissa had. The same pipe that had her pinned had fallen down and had the fiery, and egotistical, redhead pinned against the dashboard with the pipe lodged between her and the chair. The back of her helmet was sporting a large dent in it where they imagined that the pipe had struck first, and then rolled down along her back to lay on her chair's armrests.

"Charley! Good God! Carissa, get this off me! Hurry!"

_**Swallowed up in the sound of my screaming**_

_**Cannot cease for the fear of silent nights**_

_**Oh how I long for the deep sleep of dreaming**_

_**The goddess of imaginary light**_

Putting all her strength into the act, and with Amy helping along, the two managed to get the pipe off of her. However, the act of strength was more on Carissa's part as was soon revealed as Amy scrambled to get out of her seat, unbuckling her seatbelt and climbing haphazardly out. Carissa remained standing where she was, holding the pipe high up in the air with a strength that the small and slender woman didn't seem to possess, though clearly did. While she stood there holding the pipe up off of Charley's back, Amy stumbled from her seat and finally limped her way to Charley's where, like Carissa's side, the wall and been bent inward and torn off in small places.

"Charlene? Charlene! Dang it! Speak to me Charley! Wake up!" Amy nearly shouted for sake of fear as she grabbed at Charley's shoulders and proceeded to unbuckle and haul the unconscious woman from her seat. Once they were out and away, Carissa dropped the pipe down without a care and started over to help with Charley. Together they pulled her off to a safe place in the center of the room. Amy carefully laid her down so that her head rested on her lap before they proceeded to remove her helmet.

The sight that greeted their eyes, and Carissa's red glowing eye, was a smear of blood across her forehead.

To say that they were frightened was an understatement. They were terrified.

Amy bit down on her bottom lip. "Check her pulse." She commanded as she reached out her hand and wiped at Charley's pale forehead.

"I already have. She's alive." Carissa intoned without even moving, but even though she didn't even feel for a pulse or check her neck, Amy took the answer for as if she actually had.

Amy released a huge sigh of relief as her thumb ran across the cut on Charley's forehead and discovered that it was only a minor tear. "Oh thank Primus. It's only a minor cut."

"Her helmet must have took the brunt of the blow. Check the back of her head that's where the force of it was. The cut was probably just her banging against the rim of the helmet."

Amy gently rolled their friend over, cradling her head in the crook of her arm as she checked the back of her head by feeling it by hardly brushing the base of her skull – and her hair – with the back of her fingers.

She didn't feel any dampness. Which meant no blood.

Once again she released a tremendous sigh of relief as she proceeded to settle their friend back down on her lap. "She's fine. You were right. The helmet took the force of the blow. Probably did just bang her head on the rim of the face shield."

Carissa simply nodded, having already come to this conclusion. "That's why you have to wear helmets. You'd get your brains bashed out otherwise if you didn't."

"Heh, yeah. Lucky Charley isn't crazy enough _not _tothink that she doesn't need one. Alright, help me–!"

"Hey…Amy?"

The burnette cut herself off in mid-sentence and looked down into her into the sleep-ridden and exhausted eyes of her friend.

She couldn't help but smile. "Hey Charley. What's up?"

The redhead didn't seem to hear her. Her eyes flickered and finally closed as she whispered out, her voice clogged with the fogs of sleep and quickly returning back to that dreamland, "I'll… fix the ship now…"

Amy chuckled and smiled faintly. "Yeah, okay. You do that. But first I think I'll let you rest a bit." She cast her eyes wearily about the ship and commented, "Somehow, I think its gonna be a rather taxing job."

Amy lifted one of her eyebrows above her shades as she watched Charley's lips form the word 'okay,' but the act of actually speaking it seemed too much for her.

"We need to get out of here." Carissa spoke up, catching the brunette's attention. With her head she nodded towards the ceiling where the light from her glowing red eye revealed a swirling mist of smoke. "The gaseous fumes could be deadly if we stay in here any longer than we have too. We also don't know what kind of damage the rest of the ship took. The atomic generator could have sprung a leak."

A new wave of fear washed over Amy's face as the danger of that possibly sprung to mind. She started to get up. "Your right. We have to get out of here. The very air could be toxic. And I have no idea how long we were out. Here, help me with Charley."

"Kay." Carissa said and stood up. She hadn't even reached her full height when the olive-skinned woman gave out a shriek and collapsed back to the ground. Amy, whom was in mid-crouch and wrestling to get the blood pumping back into her leg, looked wide-eyed and in shock at Carissa.

For a second she couldn't process what had happened, then finally she managed to spit out, "Carissa, what's wrong? What happened!"

The cyborg lay on the ground clutching her right knee and hissing and moaning in pain. "My knee!" Carissa howled in agony as she continued to cradle herself. "Ahahaaa! …I think…I think I threw it out! Oh God it hurts!"

"It didn't shift again did it?" Amy posed as she hovered over her friend, but all she got in response was a wail and hiss of agony. Amy stood by, overlooking both of her friends and looking a bit confused. "Alright. Alright! Just hold on tight, alright Carissa? Let me get Charley out of here first than I'll be right back for you, kay? I promise!"

Carissa looked up at her long time friend with fear shining in her one good eye. The anxiety of being left behind to die was all to clear on her face. "Biker's honor?"

"Bikers honor." Amy repeated, reassuring her friend with those two simple words. Carissa took in a reassuring breath and nodded her head. She took to biting her lip quickly after.

Amy hastily knelt down and looped her right arm around Charley's waist and hauled the lady up, not exactly an easy feat with her leg still achy, but she fought through it and slowly trudged out of the room.

Along the way to the airlock, and thereby their way out, she stumbled more than once and at one point cut her left arm against a jagged cut in the wall. Asides from a scream of pain, of which she cut off midway and ground her teeth, hissing and breathing out harshly, she eventually made her way to the door she desired.

Unfortunately the panel was out of commission as she discovered from the shower of sparks it was spewing out, so she resorted to having to operate the door by hand. She grabbed for the handle of the door while balancing Charley in the other, and pulled down. With a familiar _'click'_ the lock released and she heaved the door towards her and then to her left. The act was a bit easier than normal, something to which she quickly discovered why.

Just on the other side of the door, there was a pair of golden yellow eyes glowing down at her in the surpressing darkness of the cloudy night. Amy's mouth fell slightly open as she stared in shock at the pair of eyes, at how _alive_ they were… how bright they were…

And at how much _surprised_ they were as she.

A series of noises caught her attention and the eyes backed away. She blinked and realized that those alien eyes actually belonged to a body, a rather hairy body with a mouse head. As she glanced over to her right, she found three more pair of similar yellow glowing eyes, with similar mouse bodies.

Fear once again squeezed at her heart, closing its grip and choking her with it.

She was surrounded.

She reached for her gun at her side.


	3. Chapter 3, Wrenches and Mudpuppies

**Authors Note:** I do not own the Biker Mice from Mars and probably never will. That stated, for anybody reading this or about too, this is a **MIRRORVERSE**. That means that things – the BMFM reality- is flip-flopped from the actual cartoon cannon. Thus things will be a little wacky, a little weird, but ultimately fun and hilarious. At least I hope so. I plan to introduce several of these in my fanfics, but so far I only got this written for now. In this, the Plutarkians didn't invade Mars – but Earth! Apparently the scout ships sent out to investigate the system totally skipped over the barren planet – either because they didn't think anything interesting would be there or Earth just simply looked more promising. As it stands, three women Earthers take the place of the Biker Mice – two being my own characters – which I own – called Amy and Carissa. If you'd like to use them go ahead, but ask me first before you post any fics about them. Well, I don't want to spoil anything, so one with the fic. I hope you enjoy and please tell me what you think of it at the end. I'd love to know.

**A.A.N.** – I would also like to thank those who took the time to give me comments. I really appreciate it. They really helped me to sit back down and finally write up and finish this chapter.

**Biker Women From Earth**

**Chapter 2, Wrenches and Mudpupies**

"Stoooooker…! Are we there yet?"

Four anthropoid mouse-men – or rather Martians – steadily made their way up the side of the ravine in a red-brown van with four dirt bikes hooked up to the top and a load of camping supplies stuffed into the back. The driver of the vehicle was an older Martian Cave Mouse and had fine muddy-brown fur with even deeper, rich colored hair that snaked down his back to his middle. It was tied off in a loose ponytail at shoulder height. Two thick strands of his hair rested against his cheeks. He dressed himself in a faded, sleeveless green shirt and a tan vest. He wore a pair of darker brown pants and faded brown boots.

The mouse sitting next to him was clearly much younger than the driver, but looked just as serious – or at least he would have liked to be. His fur was a brilliant honey-brown with a turf of the same colored hair flipping out and into his eager, young, innocent yellow eyes. He dressed himself in his favorite pair of black and white Nike tennis shoes and his favorite pair of dark blue pants with fading knees. The right one had a hole already forming. Lastly he wore a long-sleeved black shirt with a dark blue sweatshirt tied off around his middle-curtsey of his over worrying mother. His hair came into a smaller ponytail at shoulder length, tied off at the base of his skull. He sat staring aimlessly out his window, clearly off in la-la-land.

Sitting at the back of the van were the final occupants of the vehicle. One was a stunning white mouse with red eyes and clearly the youngest out of everyone there. He dressed himself in a pair of blue and white tennis shoes with light blue jeans and a sleeveless green shirt with a red vest. He had two gold studs pierced into his left ear.

The last of the group of four Martians was an incredibly tall mouse with smoky gray fur. He, like the white mouse, had no 'hair' like the front two mice did. He dressed himself in a pair of brown hiking boots, weathered blue jeans, a long-sleeved purple shirt overlaid with a warm, padded sand red vest with multiple pockets. Out of all of them, he seemed the most enthusiastic about where they were going as he kept looking out all the windows, mainly the front window or the white mouse sitting next to him- who was on the side of the car that wasn't facing the ravine wall. He had a camera sitting ready between his large hands on his lap while his tail swung eagerly down by his feet. He was humming a tune that none of them readily recognized.

It had been the white furred mouse that had spoken just a moment ago, and to his comment the driver rolled his yellow eyes in exasperation. "Modo." He said to the large-gray mouse sitting behind him with a show of muscles beginning to develop due to his workout classes. Modo pulled his attention away from the scenery passing them by of the beautiful deep plum trees and to the driver in front of him.

"Yeah, Stok?" He asked with a deep voice.

"Could you do me a favor and pull _hard _on Vinnie's ear for me?"

At this Modo instantly became tentative and looked sheepishly towards his best friend, but didn't pull his ear. Nevertheless Vinnie looked scandalized. "What'd I do?" The white-furred mouse whined piteously. "I just asked if we were there yet."

Stoker came to a stop sign in the road and came to a stop. As he was glancing down either road way- as one roadway led into a tunnel in the rock wall and another continued on the outside of the ravine, taking a steep upward and windy path to higher ground. As usual, they always took the tunnel.

As he was checking to make sure that no other vehicles were coming he said, "We'll be there when we get there."

The honey-brown furred mouse sitting next to Stoker suddenly came alive and twisted himself around to get a peek at Vinnie sitting behind him. "We're at the tunnel Vinnie, we'll be at the camp grounds in about ten minutes or so."

"Oh, okay Throttle."

Just as a Stoker was making to turn into the tunnel a sudden thunderous roar rent the sky and he slammed down hard on the brakes. Unfortunately he was about midway through the intersection. Fortunately, nobody was around or coming –either other vehicles, pedestrians, or policemice.

As the thunderous roar tore apart the sky and reverberated loudly off the ravine sides, the van windowpanes shook violently. The more seconds that ticked on by the worse the noise, and the shaking of the car and the windows, seemed to get.

"Holy _shit_!" Stoker swore out loud as he pulled up hard in the middle of the road. "What the _hell_ is that?"

"IS IT SOME SORT OF AVALANCHE?" Vinnie shouted worriedly above the thundering roar.

Stoker swung open his door and poked his head outside, taking a quick peek at what was going on. "STOKER, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Throttle cried with alarm.

Stoker ducked aside as a small rock came crashing down at him, shaken loose from the ravine wall along with a few others. Although it couldn't constitute as an avalanche, it would have still been enough to cause injury.

Poking his head back out again he peered up towards the sky and gasped in shock, his eyes going wide in disbelief just before the cause of the noise, of the thunder, crashed by some miles up above against the ravine wall in a fiery ball of death. The ship, because that's what he guessed it to be, ricocheted off of the wall and went barreling through the air, over the vehicle and further across the wide ravine, arching down and finally crashing some long distance in the direction that the other road would take them.

Once the ship sped by overhead, in view through the front windshield, Throttle, Vinnie, and Modo sat rooted to their seats in shock; staring wide-eyed and mouths open in disbelief. The thought to even get out of the vehicle and stare properly at the phenomena didn't even register to them.

It was only at the last minute that Modo thought to use the camera.

"What in the moons of Mars was–"

Throttle never got a chance to finish his sentence because another noise pervaded the air. A sickening noise that any camper would dread. The sound of crashing rocks and boulders smashing against the ravine wall and knocking loose other rocks and boulders.

Modo peered outside his window as Stoker threw himself back into the van, slammed the door shut, and backed the van up sharply. An avalanche of boulder crushing rocks were falling down towards them from miles above, and gradually growing in intensity.

"Oh mama…!"

"Forget your mama, Modo!" Stoker shouted out as he slammed on the gas and sped away from the intersection and took the windy, ascending road that they'd never taken before. "And start thinking about yourself!"

As they sped off, Modo snapped away with the camera.

Behind them the avalanche crashed down and blocked off their way back, sealing off the entrance/exit to the tunnel and to the other road. The force of the avalanche also smashed off a large chuck of the narrow rock road and sent it spiraling down, with the remainder that didn't become lodged on what remained of the road, further down into the ravine.

"Ah man!" Throttle complained as he craned his neck, like Modo and Vinnie, to see what was befalling behind them. "My dad was supposed to be coming up after us! What'll he'll think when he finds the road blocked?"

"Rodney will try and call either me or you on our cell phones, Throttle. So don't worry about that. Besides, he ain't supposed to join us until three days from now. Somehow, I think we'll get down before then."

Night descended fully and completely across the landscape, especially upon the treacherous road that Stoker, Vinnie, Throttle, and Modo now traveled upon. Stoker had his low beams on and drove carefully up the windy, narrow, and decaying roadway.

They had debated once they had escaped the avalanche if they should go back and try and see if they could get out, but settled that it would be their civic duty and simply good responsibility to check out the fallen ship and see if there were any survivors. And, if there were, as Modo had put it, they were going to be in need of some serious help.

So they continued up the windy road, not exactly sure where it was going to take them, or even if it was going to lead them too where the ship had crashed. And, if not, they would decide to hike it, using the smoke spiraling up from the crash further off in the distance as their marker. After a long forty-five minute drive though, they finally spotted it again, not that it was hard to miss.

The first thing they saw was smoke, naturally. They had been eyeing it for the entire drive, dreading it but following it. From a distance it hadn't seemed that bad but now, where they could see the total carnage, they realized that the miniscule wisps of smoke that they had been seeing was the total of the fire damage, something that relieved them greatly.

And the downed vessel sat burning and smoking on a plateau.

The road they were on round along the ravine wall and curved down onto it, where a nest of rich yellow pine resided next to a pink river that flowed out from the red earth and rock itself and poured down off the plateau, cascading down some long distance to the bottom of the ravine. It would have been a beautiful sight if not for the twisted, melted, and broken ship that had torn and burned a large patch of it away where it had landed before smashing side-long into the far back of the plateau against the mountain wall. They could see as they drove up to the secluded area bits of metal still. Luckily the pines hadn't caught on fire, simply because it was in the middle of fall, the rainy season, and it was pure lucky that there wasn't anything dry and combustible about, not since a rather rude rainstorm and blown in and out just the other day. Clouds still lingered up above, telltale signs that it would probably rain again tonight. Never a time before did the four mice pray to the powers above that it would rain– and soon with a fierce temper.

Stoker pulled up into the wooded area next to the river and stopped the van. Carefully they piled out and stared off into the path of destruction left by the ship. Trees were knocked over, roots upturned and broken bits and pieces of the ship were scattered here and there, some still smoking from reentry.

There was no sign of anybody about.

Stoker was the first to get out of the van and take a cautionary step towards the strange aircraft. He waved his hand back and forth across his face to help get some cool air as he gradually took in the sight with a calm demeanor.

Throttle, Vinnie, and Modo piled out after him.

"I don't see anyone around." Throttle commented as he climbed out of the vehicle and slowly, after staring wide-eyed at the smoking vessel, looked to Stoker. "You don't think their still in there do you?"

Stoker threw his eyes about the area, not at all liking what he was seeing, and mumbled more to himself than to anyone else, "That's not one of our ships. Never seen its like before." His eyes continued to rove over the landscape where they eventually fell onto a nearby piece of metal broken off from the ship. Like most of the rest smoke was spiraling up from it, but to his utter amazement he realized that the metal hadn't burned up or melted. It was just simply…broken off. His gut knotted up as it usually did when something was amiss, and something was very amiss. There was no metal on the face of this planet that didn't melt – especially when introduced to reentry. And the ship, the design, was one he didn't recognize.

Something was very, very wrong.

Modo looked worriedly from the older Martian and to the damage ship. Every nerve in his body twitched, anxious to race ahead and jump the river, just to reach the ship on the other side and help who ever was still within. "Stoker? Shouldn't we be trying to get–!"

"HELLO? ANYBODY HERE??"

The three Martian mice whirled around and stared upon the young white mouse. Catching their blank stares he dropped his hands from around his mouth and looked sheepishly at them as his voice echoed back at them from off the ravine walls and slowly into oblivion.

'_ANYBODY HERE?? …BODY HERE?? …body here… here….__here…here…__here…__'_

"What?" Said Vinnie quietly and rather unsure, afraid that he had done something wrong. "I'm just checking to see if they didn't run off deeper in to the woods or something."

Modo, upset with the lack of action, started forward pass Stoker and to a fallen pine that had landed over the river, creating a makeshift bridge that they could use to get across to the other side. There was no way he was going to stand by any longer than he had to when lives were at stake. The people inside the ship were going to need help, he just hoped that it wasn't intensive help. He knew a bit about medicine and patching people up from his mother, but that didn't compare to a doctors' degree, it probably didn't it constitute as a nurse's degree or Stoker's own medical training.

"Come on bros! What are you all lagging for? People are in need of help!"

"Modo!" Stoker fretfully called out after the large fella; than began worriedly following after him and his other two charges. If ever there was a time that he wished that he had Ol' Faithful with him, it was now. "Get back here! Something isn't right!"

By that time Modo was already up on the fallen pine and looked back at Stoker, who came up to a halt at the back of the group. "Of course something's wrong, Stoker! A ship just crashed! How often does that happen?"

"But–"

Before the older Martian could even get another two words out the three younger mice were already charging across the fallen pine. Giving in despite the warnings in his gut, he sighed and heaved himself up onto the pine. "Careful you mudpuppies! Go slow and be careful! Your not going to be helping anyone if you get your eyes poked out by a branch you fall on or if you drop off this oversized log and get swept away in the river and over the edge! …Argh! Are you three even listening to me? Vinnie! What am I going to tell your mother if you trip and smash for pretty face against a broken stub and scar it up?"

"Oh stop complaining Stoker! We're fine!" Throttle called back as he skillfully jumped off the pine, did a flip, and landed on the ground on the other side. "See! Fine! Your turn Vinnie!"

"Yeah right! There is no _way_ I'm doing that." And with that, he carefully slipped down off the pine.

Throttle looked disheartened at his younger friend's safer antics. "Auhhh, you're just like Stoker."

Vinnie awkwardly looked back over his shoulder towards Throttle, clearly unsure of what to say back and so didn't say anything but give a shy shrug of one of his shoulders and then look back over towards the shipwreck. Modo was already starting for it and Vinnie stood by, unsure of what exactly to do. Throttle started immediately after him, shouting out, "Hold up big fella! That ship's got to be hot! Wait for me!"

Vinnie edged to follow them but didn't and cast his head back over his shoulder to Stoker. The older Martian was already pass all the branches and making his way cautiously across the pine and too the roots. The white mouse waited for him to reach the end and then started to hold out an unsure hand to help him down. Stoker simply jumped down and landed solidly on his own two feet.

Vinnie hurriedly slapped his hand back to his side.

"Thanks for waiting up for me, kiddo. Now come on, let's go catch up with those wild friends of yours shall we?" As he spoke Stoker slapped Vinnie across the back as a sign of gratitude and nearly knocked the younger Martian over. Seemingly unaware of his own actions, Stoker continued forth, shouting out to Throttle and Modo who were further up ahead, "Hold up there, mudpuppies! Let me take a look at the situation first! I'm a former Ridge Guard remember!? Vet before rook!"

"Alright already Stoker! Just hurry up! Lives are at stake!" Throttle called back as Stoker and Vinnie jogged to catch up with the other two, who had already made it to the apparent door of the aircraft and were standing seven feet or so from it.

"When are they not? Maybe not though, if anyone survived the descent through the canyons, ricocheting off of the walls and then finally smashing against this one here, then they deserve a medal. Chances are if their was anyone aboard they already jumped ship long ago."

"Wouldn't the door be open then?" Throttle shot back to the older Martian as he and Vinnie finally arrived on the scene.

Stoker just snorted at that. "Door probably self locked after they jumped, you know," he added as he glanced to a rather unconvinced Throttle, who had his arms crossed. Only Modo and Vinnie looked like they would believe him. "As a safety feature to keep from decompressing the air inside the ship." What with the way that Throttle stared at the dark chocolate brown mouse with one eyebrow raised and his lips quirked into a side-frown, Stoker was only all too aware that Throttle knew that he was lying. Which he was. He didn't know much about planes and aircraft, he was just an old Ridge Guard that protected the United Ravines from Sand Raider attack and the occasion Rat invasion. That usually meant a lot of ground work and not too much flying. Rodney, Throttle's father, was more of the flyer, and it was all too apparent that his old friend had taught his son all he knew about aircraft.

Speaking of which Stoker eyed the main door to the alien ship wearily, his gut instinct still twisting painfully inside his stomach that he should run, or that he should at least be armed. Something bad was on the horizon, and he knew it all started with opening up that door.

But seeing as though he didn't have a weapon on him, and that he couldn't rightly leave the vehicle knowing that if there was anyone inside still alive and that if they did die because of his fear, than he would never forgive himself.

So, taking in a deep breath of the hot air wisping up around them, he calmed his nerves and cautiously stepped forward, warning the three younger Martians to stay back in case there was any trouble.

"What kind of trouble?" Vinnie popped up and Stoker sighed, but refrained from rolling his eyes.

"I don't know, like if I open this door and dangerous gas spills out or a broken pipe falls out. Just stand back."

"Okay." The youngest mouse returned, though he spoke the word so softly that no one really heard as he, Throttle and Modo, took a large step back. Vinnie stood the furthest back from the ship, safely behind Throttle.

Stoker gently reached out a hand and touched the metal of the ship with the back of his hand, then quickly pulled it away, not because it was hot, but because he was _expecting_ it to be hot. The look on his face though, as he realized that the metal – though steaming- was actually cool to the touch stunned him beyond belief. As he reached his hand out again and placed it more firmly on the metal he shook his head and gasped out, "This really isn't any Martian metal. …Of all the times I wish Rodney was here…he'd know what this was."

"What's the matter Stoker?" Throttle chirped up from further back.

Stoker just glanced over his shoulder but quickly reverted his eyes back to the vessel and began roaming it over for some sort of panel or handle to open up the door. "Nothing. The metal's just cool is all."

"Are you serious? It's not hot?"

"Nope."

Throttle looked from Modo beside him than to Vinnie behind him and back to the back of Stoker. The look of disbelief on his face was all too evident. "Are you joking? There's steam coming off from it!"

"If you don't believe me come feel it, just stand away from the door." At that moment he noticed the handle to pry open the door and reached for it. Throttle, Modo, and Vinnie, taking the invitation, drew forward but stayed to Stoker's left, away from the door, and cautiously reached out their own hands to touch the metal. Throttle was the first to touch it, and the look on his face was as priceless as Stoker's had been.

"No way! It is cold!" He quickly flipped his hand over to the other side and touched it, than began feeling it with both his hands. "What is this stuff, Stoker?"

Stoker grabbed the handle and tried twisting it. It gave in the downward position and he heard a familiar _'click_'.

'_If this is some alien ship at least we have a similarity when it comes to locks. Huh, probably Earthers. Heheh…Oh who am I kidding. Aliens from Earth? Tch, that's for Hollywood. But…no. Government experiment no doubt. Their probably on their way right now and if they catch us here we're probably going to get into a bit of trouble…which would mean that they'd need to pay us off. Huh, this could be good after all.'_

The older Martian tried pulling the door outwards but it wouldn't give. Raising an eyebrow he tried pulling it towards the wall, thinking that perhaps it folded inside like in the movies while grunting out to Throttle, "Don't know Rookie. Probably some new experimental metal the government's toying wi–!!?"

Stoker cut his own sentence off as the door actually pulled inward and then slid over on the inside. Wisps of eletrical smoke spilled outside, though that wasn't his reason for his slack-jawed, wide-eyed stare or his rigid frame. Throttle, Modo, and Vinnie noticed his shocked expression and stared at him quizzically.

"What is it Stoker?" Throttle asked as he, Modo, and Vinnie moved over a few feet to see what was on the inside of the ship…

…then they too stopped cold and stared in slack-jawed, wide-eyed amazement.

Standing just on the other side of the door was a …woman. Two of them in fact, but not in the sense that they knew of the term 'woman.' These two were furless and tailless, and their ears were small and they didn't even have any snouts. The only hair they had seemed to be on their heads. Their faces were flat and their noses were…strange, small protruding things that stuck out from their rounded heads like a large marble. The best that they could do to image it was that it looked like a snout had _started_ to grow, there was the bridge for the nose, but the end of it itself hadn't formed right, nor did it grow right. They didn't even have any red antennas! The only reason why they were able to tell that they were women was due to their breasts and shapely figures.

Of the two women the first one had twisting, curly, and somewhat messy brown hair and a pair of black-framed sunglasses with green frames. She stood there before them with her left hand posed on the handle of the door, her other arm – her right- was latched around and holding up the second woman beneath her pale arm and around her even paler waist. She seemed a bit banged up, nothing physical asides from a minor cut on her right forearm, but just exhausted. They could pick that up from the way she held her body and from her slightly ajar mouth, but mostly from her wide, dark green eyes – of which they could see because her sunglasses had slipped down the bridge of her small snout. The second woman appeared the worse for wear. Though she didn't appear to be hurt in any way she was unconscious, that much they could discern from the way she hung limply around her friend's shoulder. Though Throttle, Modo, and Vinnie had to do a double take on the redhead – though they did it only with a large amount of blushing and side staring. She didn't seem to have a shirt on asides from two green crisscrossing bandoleers, though on closer inspection they noticed the black pieces of fabric following the path of the leather bandoleers. Her hair hung in loose curls over her face, hiding it from view.

The way that the conscious woman with the sunglasses stared down at Stoker was in that sort of surprise that occurs when two people open the same door at the same time, and find one another trying to walk through to the other end and catching the others eyes instead. It was that same minuet ounce of surprise that held them, though Stoker's quickly gave way to one of deep shock as it registered in his mind that she wasn't something of this world.

He expressed this in two simple actions. The first of which being taking a hasty step back after breaking their sudden eye contact, and the second one was a simple, "Holy _shit_!"

No sooner than Stoker broke eye contact than the woman seemed to regain her own senses and the moment of magic – of bizarre enchantment- was broken and her free hand, her left hand, flew to her side where Throttle, Modo, Vinnie, and Stoker finally noticed her gun.

If at all possible their eyes got larger and their bodies got all the more still.

A few tense moments of deep silence passed by as the five aliens stared at one another, unsure of what to do or how to go about doing much of any form of communicating other than through running away or violence.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity – and only after Stoker thought he had gained a few more silver hairs – the moment was broken when the second alien moaned. The first alien woman glanced to her friend and then back to the four mouse-men.

The single moan seemed to shatter the air, breaking it like a hammer to a mirror. Throttle, Modo, and Stoker grimaced at the noise but Vinnie actually started. The simple, little noise was like a foghorn, and it rung rudely in their ears against the deafening silence between them and the crackling of the ships interior engines powering down after use.

Stoker found his voice at last. "Now boys, listen to me. This alien…lady, obviously can't understand us, so we have the home team advantage." The alien woman tilted her head slightly, her eyebrows knitting up and her face taking on a look of mild confusion yet concentration. "There's only one of her and four of us. If we take her by surprise by pretending to back away, we can get that gun away from her. Okay? Do you understand me?"

"Yeah Stoker." Throttle whispered in his hoarse voice.

"Yep." Vinnie squeaked out wide-eyed and nervous, hovering still behind Throttle and Modo.

"Uh-huh." Modo concurred with a nod of his head.

"Good. Now on the count of–"

The alien woman's eyebrows unforrowed and she started saying something, more of an incomphrensible word than any language, but of a sudden she said, in a broken, slow, and rather unsure Martian tongue, "You know… I _can_ understand you."

Once more the four Martians went stiff, their eyes growing large and mouths falling open in surprise as their eyes locked more firmly upon the alien woman. They didn't know what to say-they were honestly speechless- as she slowly but surely moved her fingers away from her firearm and reassured her grasp on her friend. She seemed to be straining under the weight and her own exhaustion wasn't helping. In an effort to establish some kindness into this rude shock, the alien female tried a friendly smile for them, but that faded quickly as she knelt down and slipped her free arm under the other woman's knees and, bracing herself with a grunt, lifted her up so as that she was draped over her arms. She nearly toppled back under the weight but she steadied herself, and soon she was supporting herself and her friend. She tried grinning again at them and tried speaking once more in her unsure Martian tongue that was, despite it's slowness, laced with the vocal points of need that was apparent in any vocal speaking people.

"And I'm not going to…er, shoot you. Not unless you hu-hurt us first. Could…could you help us?"

Modo was the first to react. No matter what species, or people, or creature, he couldn't just stand by and watch as they were harmed or in need of aid. His mother had managed to pound that much information into his skull anyway. The large mouse stepped forward and pointed towards the unconscious woman whom, now that her sand-red hair was flung back rather than in her face – they saw the spotless silver mask covering the right half of her face – and a splash of blood smearing her pearly skin. Modo looked first sadly upon her as he noticed the mask, wondering vaguely what could have possibly caused it, and then in horror at the splatter of blood.

He locked eyes with the shade-wearing woman and said, stilling gesturing to her friend, "Mind if I take her off your hands, ma'am?"

The woman looked a little unsure, but then offered her to Modo, who took the woman gladly and stepped back, allowing the second woman to step down, but much to their surprise she stumbled back into the dark, flickering room with the occasional wisp of smoke spilling out the door and into the cool night air.

"Where –" Modo began but the woman's voice cut him off, floating back to them vaguely from within the ship.

"Please…friend still…in ship?"

They watched as the alien hesitated a moment within at the foot of an archway and looked back over her shoulder at them. She had her head lowered so that they could see her eyes, and it was in them that they saw the question in them, the question of whether or not she had said what she needed to be said and if they understood.

Throttle nodded sharply and hopped bravely aboard. "Yeah, I understand. There's still someone else inside right? Lead me too them."

"Can I help?" Vinnie called after them as he started aboard.

Stoker hung around outside looking on in the ship and the vanished Martians and alien with a mixture of fear and uncertainty. He truly wanted to help but his fear held him back. He couldn't believe that he was even letting the boys aboard. What would their mothers say to him? Hell, what would Vinnie's mom- Sally – say to him when she found out that he had let her son climb aboard some alien vessel from outer space, filled with only God knew what bacterium and germs that- though they might not have been fatal for the aliens, would probably be fatal to them.

"Stoker," Modo said in his deep voice as he eyed the older Martian quizzically. Stoker turned to him, finding that he had knelt down and had produced a role of guaze from one of his many pockets and was cleaning up the blood on the woman. "Where should we put her? She's going to need a cozy place to lay down and recover."

"Huh? Uh…err," Stoker shook himself out of his amazement, and what remained of his overpowering shock, and locked his yellow eyes upon the alien woman in Modo's arms. Her skin was smooth and ghostly pale, though her fiery red hair seemed to make up for her lack of skin color. He didn't know if that was normal for their people or if she had suffered blood loss, since she was bleeding however he took it as a serious sign to her deteriorating health. "Uh…the van. Yes. The van. We should move her to the van. We'll set up camp and bring out the sleeping bags and things. Maybe we could call up a helicopter and–"

A look of absolute horror crossed over Modo's face. "No way Stoker! We can't call in for a copter! The hospital will only call up the police and then bam! Soon these ladies will find themselves on some cold table in a lab somewhere! We can't do that! Haven't you ever seen any alien movies?"

"Right. No helicopter. But they could have broken bones. How–"

"I thought you could set bones and stuff, Stoker. Aren't you certified or something from when you were in the Ridge Guard?"

"Uh, right. Heh, so I am."

"And I don't think it'd be at all safe to carry them over that pine. I could loose my balance or that nice alien lady could loose hers and fall in."

At that point Stoker lost his patience and glowered down at Modo. "Alright fine!" He growled, throwing his hands up above his head. "I'll go search the camping gear for the sleeping bags and First Aid and bring it over here!"

With that, Stoker promptly turned about on his heel and stomped off, grumbling beneath his breath.

At that exact moment Vinnie, Throttle, and the alien woman were returning from the interior of the ship. The alien woman from before was leaning up against Vinnie for support and looked more exhausted than ever. Then there was a third alien – yet another female – that was being carried out by Throttle. She, unlike her friend in Modo's arms, was very much awake. That much he knew from the way that she was grimacing and groaning in pain. Swelling from her right leg near the knee was a sign of where she was in pain.

As the four of them stepped out from the damaged ship Throttle, Vinnie, and the alien woman with the shades looked off in Stoker's direction and Throttle inquired, "Where's Stoker going?"

"He's gone to get the camping gear. It's much too dangerous to haul these ladies across the pine, or through the river, so we're setting up camp here."

"Near the ship?" Throttle inquired with a lifted eyebrow as he cast his gaze from Modo to the surrounding area. "Isn't that a bit dangerous."

"Yes." Spoke up the alien woman leaning against Vinnie. The three of them turned and stared curiously at her, wondering what she was going on about. She pointed up to the night sky, where they could see gray clouds and patches of stars above, and spoke once again. "Shot down." And she made use of her free hand- the left, as her right was around Vinnie's shoulders and neck, and his arm around her waist and holding her hand– by illustrating her point. She pointed back behind her at the ship and then held her hand up for them to see, her furless palm face down, and glided it across the air. "We were trying to get back…to Earth. And we were shot down by _Plutarkians_." At about this point she nose-dived her hand, or rather the 'ship,' earthward. What with the way that she spoke the name 'Plutarkians,' and the way her cherry red lips twisted up into a disgusted and loathing frown, they didn't think they wanted to met up with any of them. "Thee Plutarkians probably come to invest-i-gate the ship. See if we're still alive."

She lowered her head and fixed the three of them with a piercing, steady gaze that prompted utmost haste. As she spoke her speech was clear, her urgency and the importance of this situation resolute. "We have to leave. Now."

The three Martian men looked at each other nervously, the daring adventure of their rescue washing away and not at all liking the situation they had just been thrown into. Especially now, and that was clear in each of their eyes, especially the critical question of whether or not they were helping the right people. What if the three they had saved were wanted intergalactic criminals simply being sweet until they were well again? What if they really were victims of circumstance and these… Plutarkians were just simply evil aliens.

The three knew all to well they had gotten themselves into something severe, perhaps even in over their heads.

The alien woman seemed to note this and looked at them with such a trustworthy, innocent face that they couldn't bear to believe her an evil being at all. There was just this strange alien beauty about her that was rugged, but wild. Fierce, but gentle. Innocence but warrior.

"The Plutarkians are evil." She spoke in her clearly feminine, though tomboyish voice. "They wasted all their own…uh, err…nat…u-er, nat-u-r –"

Vinnie tilted his head curiously at her and suggested kindly, "Natural?"

The woman's eyes lit up and she snapped her fingers, shaking her head ecstatically. "Natural! Natural resources! So they go around strip-mining the cosmos! They destroyed our home world, Earth. They tore the place apart and shipped the…uh, land, back to Plutark." Once again she illustrated what she was saying with her hand, pointing once more back up to the heavens, then pointing to both of her friends in turn. "Nearly wiped out our race! Charley," and she pointed to the unconscious woman in Modo's arms with the fiery auburn hair and the silver mask, "gave half her face to the cause, that's why she wears the mask. And Carissa," she pointed to her other friend in Throttle's arms, "she gave her arm." Then, she added as a side note after a moment of consideration, "And her eye."

The three Martians looked from one of their alien friends to the next, surprise, shock, and disgust on their faces. Disgust of course for these Plutarkians.

Throttle was the first one to speak. Though he was amazed at the fact that they were from Earth, that they were actual Earthers, he couldn't exactly elate upon the notion then. Not if these murdering Plutarkians could be coming down to check on their ship. They had to get out of here ASAP. He looked around nervously, trying to figure out what to do first. However his excitement did leek out amidst his babble of giving out a half-concocted plan.

"Wow. I mean, _wow_! _Earth_? I…I mean, we need to get out of here right?" He quickly shook his head and looked back at the brown-haired woman. "_You're_ actual Earthers? Wait, what's your name?"

"Amy."

"Throttle." Vinnie hissed at him, clearly embarrassed by his overreacting.

Amy looked to Throttle and repeated his name. "Throttle?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm Throttle, these are my friends Modo and Vinnie."

"Modo? Vinnie?" After receiving nods of confirmation the woman slipped away from Vinnie's grasp and took out her firearm. The boys froze, their innards running cold as she faced them and said, "I have a plan."

They were all to relieved when she turned around and shot down a nearby pine branch.

As Stoker reached the van he didn't head around for the back to get the camping gear, instead he opened up his drivers' side door and plopped down in the seat. For a few seconds he stared out the window at the crashed spaceship, and at Throttle, Vinnie, and Modo standing off in the distance with the two alien women – three actually. He thought he saw Throttle carrying one.

His gut was practically screaming at him now. Not so much as that the three women were trouble, in fact they hadn't shown any signs of it, except of course for the brunette grabbing for the gun, but that was understandable. She was probably just as shocked as they had been. But just because they didn't show any hostile intentions now didn't mean they couldn't later on. He needed to get the boys out of here – now. But of course they wouldn't go anywhere without the alien women. Well, okay. They could take them if they got out, but he'd have to confiscate their weapons. And keep a close eye on them. There was no way on Mars that he was going to have it any other way. But how to get down off the plateau without alerting public attention and thereby uncovering the identity of three alien women?

Simple.

Rodney.

Stoker reached inside his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. With a simple flip of the top, a few press of buttons and wahla – the phone was ringing. He placed it next to his mousy-ear and waited. He didn't have to wait long, soon Rodney picked up.

Hello? Echoed out a rich, handsome voice from the other end, a voice that mirrored Throttle's own husky voice, though older. Who may I ask is calling?

"Rodney, its me. Stoker."

Stoker! Hey! A bit early to be calling to tell me those mudpuppies have already driven you crazy! What's up?

"Rodney, there was an avalanche and the road got blocked off. I–"

Oh geez. Is everyone alright? How's Throttle?

"Throttle's fine. Everyone's fine. Look, Rodney, we took that other road that winds around the ravine- you know, the other one next to the tunnel that takes us to the camping ground?"

Yeah, I know the one.

"Good. Alright well it leads to this plateau at the corner in the ravine, there's a waterfall. Can't miss it. I need you to come pick us up in your copter."

Well if no one's hurt Stoker than why now? I could just come on Friday night like we planned originally and we can head back then. In fact, I could call up the city and have them send some construction workers too–"

"Rodney. No." Stoker languished sternly as he watched the boys and the aliens across the river. The brunette had shot down a branch from a nearby pine try and was swiping the end across the ground. "You need to come tonight. You see, the avalanche was caused by this….ship."

There was a pause from the other end of the line. A…ship, Stoker? As in a boat sailed up on the air currents and –

"Rodney, knock of the jokes! This is serious! You don't know how serious! Tch!" Stoker began rubbing the space between his eyes, clearly agitated and unsure of how to word his words correctly so that Rodney didn't think that he had finally lost it. "Rodney…" Stoker began, clearly at wits end. "A plane crashed, okay. It came down out of the sky and slammed into the side of the ravine. That's what caused the avalanche."

Dear God! A plane? Stoker, why didn't you say any –

"Because Rodney!" Stoker snapped, cutting him off in mid-sentence. "I'm not talking one of our planes! I'm…I'm…uh…Rodney, we've been friends a long time right."

Yes, but Stoker what does that have to do with the plane? Were there people on it? Are they okay?

"Yeeeah. There were…uh, _people_ on it. Sort of."

Sort of? What–!? Stoker! Stop speaking in riddles and come out with it!

"Rodney it was a spaceship! A bloody fucking spaceship! And I don't mean like a satellite, I mean like an _alien_ starship… from another planet! Look, there were these three…." Stoker's words drifted off as he watched in the dim of the faded twilight as three headlights jumped out from the ship – or flashlights. Except that he couldn't make out any people holding them, in fact, now that he squinted his eyes, they kind of looked like motorcycles. Three riderless motorcycles driving themselves.

The elder mouse felt the beginnings of a headache coming on as he watched the brunette woman pointing down along the river and then over towards the road. The bikes, in response, roared. He could hear them from where he sat as their engines echoed and bounced off the ravine walls. Then, with one of them popping a wheelie, they sped off down the river towards the edge of the plateau, collectively pulled a hard right and jumped the river. The bikes landed less than a foot away from his van where they proceeded to speed on by and further down to the rock road they had used to get here.

He was right. They were motorcycles. And they were driverless.

Stoker stepped up and got out of his van, rising in stunned amazement.

Stoker? What's that noise? That doesn't sound like dirt bikes. Stoker?

Continuing to watch the driverless bikes, Stoker stared on, wide-eyed, as soon as the motorcycles hit the rock road they pulled up sharp, flipped around and then zoomed back toward the soft dirt. Just before touching it however, all three preformed the same feat they had back when they jumped the river. They activated these…boosters and blasted some thirty feet into the air. The three bikes performed a long, graceful arc where they promptly disappeared into the foliage of the pines. Scanning the foliage for where they had landed, he thought he caught a flash of their headlights here and there racing back towards the boys and their alien friends.

Stoker?

"These three alien women, Rodney." Stoker said slowly as he began to come out of his state of shock. "They were hairless except for on their head with no tail, small ears, and flat faces. They wore biker clothes, Rodney and…apparently they have bikes that can move on their own."

There was a silence from the other end, then Stoker heard chuckles. Is this supposed to be a joke, Stoker? Come on, those were the kids dirt bikes right? And I'll assume that you're the mastermind behind his. Or is it my Throttle?

"Rodney, listen to my voice very carefully…" Said Stoker speaking clearly and without humor into the phone. "A spaceship did crash land here. We are trapped up here and there are three alien women with automatic motorcycles hanging around with your boy, Bodda's, and Sally's. Two of them, if not all three, are hurt. I don't know what kind of germs they could be carrying that could actually be fatal to us, and heaven forbid if I'm going to be blamed for you not coming to pick us up in your copter if those mudpuppies get sick and die."

There was a long silence from the other end of the line. Then, finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Rodney finally responded, his voice dead and serious and, just a little, believing. Your not joking are you?

"Rodney if I'm lying you can rip out my tail, give it to Bodda, and tell her to make a soup out of it so I can eat it."

There was yet another long, hard silence from the other end and, what Stoker thought he heard was a sigh. Okay Stoker. Alright. I fly up there. But God help you if your joking, I _will_ finish the job that Droll the Cruel started when he first cut off your tail. Only instead of helping to ice it so it could be sowed back on for you, I _will_ give it to Bodda so she can serve it up for you with beard and cheese.

"I'd be more than happy to eat it if I'm am lying."

You do realize how much gas costs for copters.

"Of course. If I'm lying I'll pay for it."

Again, a pause. And that I have work early tomorrow.

"Yes, Captain Rodney of the Ridge Guard, Squadron Phobos. I do know. But, God, if you saw this you'd call in sick for tomorrow, maybe even the next day."

Rodney emitted a long sigh from the other end of the line, then finally said, Alright. I'll be there within the hour.

"Good. And trust me Rodney, for our relationship's sake, I'm not lying and that this…this is once in a lifetime."

Alright fine Stoker. See you soon.

"Alright. Bye."

Stoker flipped the phone lid down, effectively shutting off the cell phone, then stuffed it back into his pocket.

For a while he just sat there, staring out the windshield towards the boys – his friend's children and their friend- Vinnie, letting his mind drift back a ways in time.

His tail.

Droll the Cruel.

His eyes drifted away from the boys and the alien women and their motorcycles- of which had hopped back over the river to their owners. His mind was still awhirl over that one. He wouldn't mind taking those things apart to see how they worked.

His eyes finally alighted on his tail, which he managed to get to move a tad bit – and sighed. The day that that horrid Sand Raider had cut off his tail had been the day that he had finally realized – or rather was forced to admit- that his days of playing Ridge Guard were over. He had been lucky enough that Droll had only cut off his tail at his base and not him in half as he had planned– thanks to Rodney. They had only managed to escape the field afterward, with his tail safely tucked in a chest of ice. Though the doctors had managed to get it back on he had never been able to move it like he used to, nor could he, or was he ever allowed, to hang from it or use it to lift heavy objects.

To say that he was depressed was an understatement.

He winced at the memory, not at all pleased to remember that day. But then, if he hadn't of retired from the Ridge Guard he would have never really been able to pick up his family business at the Last Chance Garage.

At least that was the silver lining to his dark cloud.

Speaking of dark clouds…

He raised his eyes back up to the broken spacecraft and let out a startled garble of surprise. Vinnie, Throttle, Modo, and the three alien women along with their motorcycles– were gone.

Immediately Stoker jumped out from the van. "THROTTLE!?" Stoker shouted out into the darkness, cupping his hands to his mouth so as to be heard louder. "MODO??! …VINNIE!??"

He listened for a moment as his voice drifted back to him against the ravine walls, tormenting him with the silence that followed asides from his own echo. Filled with both annoyance and a bit of fear, Stoker slammed the van door shut and carried out further up the river towards the pine.

He peered around into the woods but couldn't see anything. Night had descended completely upon the place and all starlight was blocked out by the growing storm clouds. He cupped his hands to his mouth again and shouted out, "MUDPUPPIES! WHERE ARE YOU?? THIS ISN'T FUNNY!" He waited a moment more for a response and when he got none he yelled again, "JUST WAIT TILL I TELL YOUR MOTHERS HOW HORRIBLE YOU'VE BEEN TREATING THIS POOR OLD MOUSE! I'M SURE THEY'LL GIVE YOU ONE HELL OF A LECTURE! ESPEICALLY YOUR MOTHER, MODO! I KNOW HOW BODDA CAN GET! …ROOKIES!??"

He dropped his hands and listened intently, straining his ears to hear the tinniest sound, the most silent chirp of a grasshopper, the flap of an owl's wings. Or even the sound of someone sneaking up on him.

He caught the sight of someone sneaking around back behind him in the pinewood, but before he even got the chance to see who it was fully, another object caught his attention in the form of a huge searchlight.

Stoker snapped around and stared in yet again shock as he looked upon an actual working spaceship, though this one was definitely different from the one now laying motionless and useless on the plateau. The one up in the air resembled a fat, purple fish with its bones highlighted on the outside of the vessel in white and the tail of the fish- which on the ship was the engines he supposed – was only the skeletal remain. The searchlights were blaring down and blinding him from the bottom-front of the vessel.

It was as he turned aside and was shielding his eyes, rubbing them and waiting for them to adjust to the sudden shift in brightness that he felt a pair of large, strong arms wrap around his midsection and lift him bodily into the air, pinning his arms effectively to his sides.

With a yelp of protest Stoker was hauled into the darkest part of the pinewoods.


	4. Chapter 4, Stench of the Universe

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** I do not own the Biker Mice from Mars and probably never will. That stated, for anybody reading this or about too, this is a **MIRRORVERSE**. That means that things – the BMFM reality- is flip-flopped from the actual cartoon cannon. Thus things will be a little wacky, a little weird, but ultimately fun and hilarious. At least I hope so. I plan to introduce several of these in my fanfics, but so far I only got this written for now. In this, the Plutarkians didn't invade Mars – but Earth! Apparently the scout ships sent out to investigate the system totally skipped over the barren planet – either because they didn't think anything interesting would be there or Earth just simply looked more promising. As it stands, three women Earthers take the place of the Biker Mice – two being my own characters – which I own – called Amy and Carissa. If you'd like to use them go ahead, but ask me first before you post any fics about them. The song, 'Imaginary' belongs to Evanescence as featured on the CD Evanescence- Fallen. Well, I don't want to spoil anything, so on with the fic. I hope you enjoy and please tell me what you think of it at the end. I'd love to know. 

**A.A.N.** – I would also like to thank Rebelgirl666, Rynorean, and Kezzyczka for the comments. I really appreciate it. I also appreciate those of you who continue coming back for more. It shows me that there is reason to continue on with the story.

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**_Biker Women from Earth_****Chapter 4, Stench of the Universe**

"Put me down punk! Do you know whom you're messing with? I'm Stoker Salsaka! Former Captain of the Ridge Guard unit Phobos and –"

"Stoker calm down! Its just me."

Stoker's nerves relaxed, if but a little, when he recognized Bodda's son's voice. "Oh, Modo." Stoker lamented a bit lamely as the large gray mouse settled him down on his feet further into the deep thicket of the pine grove. His face twisted into mock anger as he patted his arms and vest down and grumbled up towards the giant mouse, "Tch. Don't ya know its bad form to be jumping a mouse from behind like that?"

"Sorry Stoker but Carissa-ma'am said–"

Before he could get another word out Stoker grabbed Modo's shoulder and pushed the youth to the yellow pine needled ground as a searchlight from the strange ship flashed over in their direction.

Both of them stared up through the underbellies of the branches towards the purple and white fish-shaped ship. Rays of the bright white light spilled in through patches in the trees above, pouring through the twisted arrangement of nature's own maze work like individual spears seeking to pin their targets to the ground to win Death's cold embrace. One such light fell straight across Modo's eyes and the young mouse couldn't help but to shield his delicate eyes and look away with a garbled cry. Stoker was more cautious and peered out through narrow slits up to the mysterious ship above, heart pounding with fear and adrenaline, but he found that he couldn't even see the alien ship against the tremendous light blaring down upon them except for a dark outline.

With each passing second that ticked on by he felt his heart rate excellarate by leaps and bounds. He could feel his heart thudding painfully against his ribcage and ringing in his large mouse ears. He was afraid that the pilots up in the alien craft would hear it and shoot.

When it seemed that the light would never pull away and that something terrible would have to be happening soon, Stoker tapped Modo's large shoulder, catching his attention. The younger mouse snapped his head in Stoker's direction after a few pokes, then blinked his yellow eyes painfully in hopes of trying to regain his focus. Stoker remained impassive of all the craziness going on around him, acting as if running into three aliens and spaceships were all part of common life. His impassiveness came from working all those long years in the Ridge Guard. If you allowed your emotions to run you you'd be dead within the hour out on the field. Rats or even worse, Sand Raiders, could get the drop on you and kill you. You had to remain in control. Had to react indifferent even to the most strangest of situations. And this diffidently ranked waaay up there around number one.

He signaled with his thumb for Modo to follow him further into the thicket of the woods behind them. Modo glanced back, blinking, and then at Stoker narrowing his watery eyes at him. The gray mouse nodded to show that he understood and the two began slowly crawling further back until they felt they were a safe distance in.

They had only just managed to crawl out from the light and into the darker part of the woods when a black leather clad biker boot slammed itself down in front of them. The two came up short, their eyes going wide at the sight of the foot and slowly rising up to meet its owner. Stoker hadn't even heard the person come up and his heart found its place in his throat once again because of it.

He didn't even both to let out a sigh of relief when he realized that the boot belonged to one of the female aliens from the downed ship- the one with the brown hair and sunglasses.

"There you two are!" She hissed out and knelt down, grabbing them by the collars of their shirts and hauling them to their feet. Stoker was amazed at her strength. "Hurry up and come on! We don't have much time!" Her Martian had gotten better already. She was speaking without so much fumbling and a lot quicker than before.

"Much time for what? For your buddies up there to come down here and nab us? Well I got news for you lady! There's no way on Mars I'm gonna let you alien scuff harm the mudpuppies or myself! I'd rather die first before–"

Amy's right eyebrow raised above the hem of her shades. Even with her shades on it was all too apparent that the Earther felt he'd crossed a line. "Hurt you?" She proclaimed as she let go of their shirts, her voice taking on a note of light outrage. "I'm trying to help you! If I–" she cut herself off as her attention snapped from the two taller mouse-men before her to something just behind them. Glancing down at her Stoker could just barely see her eyes as they got larger behind her shades and as her mouth began to form an 'O' of dread. She spat something out in a language they didn't understand then grabbed their wrists, pulling them off to the side.

"Hey! Where do you think your taking me! Let go you…Oh!" Was all Stoker managed to spit out with his own undignified tone as he tried wrenching his grasp from the alien and succeeded. As he did he glanced back over his shoulder to see what had upset her so much and found a single dark shape approaching from the direction of the light. In their hands they had another hand-held flashlight and in the other…Stoker peered his eyes carefully but still couldn't make out what the object was, though he thought it was a gun. What else could it have been?

With a start he started right quickly after the fleeing Modo and the brown-haired Earther deeper into the woods, calling up to them and cursing himself, "Damn it! I knew I should have brought my gun! Hey, wait for me!"

The two broke through a clearing just a bit up ahead, and as Stoker came barreling through the brunette grabbed him by his arm and spun him around. Stoker hardly had a moment to catch his breath before he found the woman's hand enclosing his muzzle in her grasp and her other hand holding a figure up to her lips for silence. "Shhhhh!"

Their attention snapped over into the direction of some stomping. Amy reached out and gently moved a bushy branch aside and peered out where she spied the alien with the light drawing over into their direction.

Meantime Stoker was trying his best to breathe out through his nose and none too quietly. The female alien turned her stern glare onto him, her shades slipping a bit down the bridge of her nose so he could see just how agitated she was with him, but it didn't seem to do any good.

Giving up she released his muzzle and the dark chocolate brown furred Martian proceeded to take in a deep breath of air as quietly as he could to quench the thirst in his lungs and in his racing heart, but it hardly did much good. He hardly had time to get any though as she grabbed his and Modo's arm and tugged the both of them towards the ground. It was only then that as he glanced about that he noticed the three motorcycles, Vinnie, Throttle, and the last two alien ladies. Vinnie was, as normal, lodged away behind Throttle and tucked away with his back against the safety of the bikes. Throttle sat there staring up at Stoker with rather uncertain but mesmerized look in his eyes as the one auburn-haired woman with the silver mask covering half her face rested on his lap. Her hair was splayed out over it, her face pale and glowing in the darkness of the night. She was like some strange angel as she rested peacefully there. The last one was the one alien he had yet to see. He hardly had any time to take note of her asides from her bionic arm and the fact that she sat in the midst of the group cross-legged and obviously awaiting their arrival.

Once Modo, Stoker, and the last alien woman found themselves huddled down amidst the group, with the three motorcycles' engines humming silently in the night, giving off sound as peaceful and relaxing as a grasshoppers chirp or a frog's croak, the brunette and obvious leader of the group turned to the cyborg and said something in their own language. Stoker lifted an eyebrow curiously at the two but they hardly paid him any attention. The cyborg simply nodded and lifted her bionic arm slightly into the air. Stoker proceeded to watch, with more than a hint of fascination as a small needle-like device, hooked up to some glass-contained purple-glowing energy source, popped up from the flat of the back of her hand. Once it did she then lifted her arm into the air and closed her hand into a fist. Next thing he knew the tiny device shot out a tight beam of purple energy that dissipated about three feet into the air into a beautiful, rippling pool of light.

He raised his eyebrow at it in curiousness but before he could even ask what it was Throttle beat him too it. "What's that supposed to do?" The honey-brown furred Martian inquired softly and quizzically. Nonetheless the cyborg and shade-wearing female snapped their heads around and glared balefully at him. Once they were sure that the Martian wasn't going to speak again did the olive-skinned woman with the bionic arm explain with a voice even softer than his own, "It's a heat cloaker. It cloaks our body heat from the scanners they got up on their ship or down here." Her own Martian was quite crisp and clean, very understandable and clearly portraying her tart personality.

"What good is that going to do us for the clown stalking us with the flashlight?" Stoker retorted in a low angry hiss. He was really wishing he had brought along his gun. The one time he didn't and look what happened…

How had such a routine camping trip gone so wrong?

The grim-faced sunglass-wearing brunette turned and fixed him with a stare that not even he could break, even though he couldn't even see her eyes. She held his with her own invisible pair and after a moment of knowing silence she turned her attention back to the unknown alien stalking them. Stoker knew that face, and that silent communication all too well and was only confirmed of it as he watched as her hand drifted towards her gun at her side.

It was at that very moment that he felt a slight pang of kinship with the three strange women. He began to see their touchiness not for any criminal nature – not for the anxiety of fugitives on the run and about to get caught, not for if they did get caught that they had four naïve Martians to use as hostages… no. He saw them with a new light, a sudden burst of realization that they weren't so far off from he himself. That they were just simple soldiers, defenders of peace and justice lost out in the vastness of the cosmos. He didn't know from where he got that, but somehow it just seemed right.

And with it he felt a little more secure in their presence.

He settled down slowly close to the large bush beside them and gently shifted a branch aside, much the same as the brunette was doing, and peered out cautiously into the thickness of the pinewoods. For a moment he saw nothing but the calm sea of darkness engulfing the woods, then suddenly a light flashed out from behind a nearby tree and he caught his breath, his body grew tense and he froze. From the corner of his eyes he caught the brunette's own body tense as if to pounce, and her hand flex around her gun.

Slowly, almost painfully slowly, Stoker watched as the alien proceeded deeper and further into the woods, scanning his light across the landscape hither and tither, clearly looking for traces of them. What really got his heart singing in his ears and his blood pumping was that the creature continued to draw closer and closer to their position with each step he took.

Every second that ticked on by seemed to stretch on into eternity. Stoker thought his heart was pounding so fiercely that it would burst from his chest. He was amazed that the numbskull looking for them hadn't heard it yet. Hell, he was surprised that the women next to him hadn't told him to hush it up or that she'd do it for him. He would have.

The creature got slowly closer and closer and by now he was close enough for Stoker to realize that the thing he was carrying in his other hand was in fact a gun. He thought his heart skipped a beat at that realization and immediately he began searching for some weapon, his eyes never leaving the alien ahead of him. After some scavenging his hand finally fell upon a sizeable rock and he picked it up, testing its weight momentarily in his grasp. He took a second to glance at it, note its shape and potential properly, when he caught sight of Modo, Throttle and especially Vinnie. The three young mice were staring at Stoker with wide eyes, hardly believing that any of this was happening. Their shock was all too apparent, their fears and anxieties all too plain. Vinnie looked the worst among the three. He sat huddled up back behind Modo and Throttle, back to a red racer motorcycle and looking paler than normal. The poor kid looked like he'd faint from high-strung nerves at the first sign of combat. Modo seemed to be made of sterner stuff, scared about what was happening, but wanting to help out if he could, and Throttle….Throttle was worried, frightened, scared, but Stoker could see the bravery in his eyes, the want to help somehow, anyhow, in any way possible. He reminded him a lot of his father when they were younger and had first entered into the Ridge Guard.

He gave the three of them a small reassuring smile and an even more confident one to Vinnie who seemed like he needed it the most.

The response that Vinnie returned was a sudden sickened look. The kid looked like he was about to barf. He abruptly threw his hands up to cover his noise and even choked on the air he was breathing. Stoker could feel his face go flush, his heart skip a beat at Vinnie's gagging noise. He didn't know why the kid had done it, but it might have just cost them there cover…

Modo and Throttle were looking at him just as horrified. But it was within that very moment that Throttle sniffed the air. He too suddenly doubled over and grabbed his noise. Unlike Vinnie however, Throttle, like Modo who followed within that same instant and Stoker, made a valiant effort not to be heard, though their gasping breaths were all to distinct in the quiet of the night.

The two alien women made disgusted faces and Carissa covered her nose with her flesh hand while Amy pulled at her red bandana and slipped it up over her nose.

Stoker's world was spinning. He couldn't believe that something could smell that bad! It reeked worse than a sewer, worse than a Rat's den. He choked, he gagged, his eyes watered and his nose stung horribly. The stench was so bad that it even left a taste in his mouth, much to his disgust. It was like the stench of rotting fish, mingled with garage left out during the hottest days of summer. It was probably even worse than that. There was just simply nothing he could compare it too, that he wanted to compare it too without feeling more ill as he laid there crumpled on the ground, left immobile from the sheer force of the stench, withering and air-gagging, trying not to make a noise on the mucky, dirty, old-season leaf covered floor of the plateau.

It was as he was laying there, trying to remain conscious and trying to keep the stink out from his nose and out of his mouth, that his watering eyes slowly drifted 'upwards' so that he could see beneath the skirt of the bush. He spotted the feet of their stalker only half a dozen feet away. He heart pounded painfully against his ribcage. With one free hand he began searching for the rock he had dropped when the stink first hit him and, within that same moment, he also noted the brunette slowly, carefully, as silently as she could, taking out her own purple gun, her attention not once leaving the goon on the other side.

Just as Stoker found his rock the searchlight from the unknown alien's flashlight passed over their hiding spot. He felt his heart, and time itself, stand still. He strained his ears to their limits, could hear the thing as it took one more step in their direction, could hear its heavy breathing as it drew closer and closer…could _smell_ whatever the hell that the stench was coming from and –

It spoke. At least he thought it did, his reality was beginning to swirl and spin, he wasn't sure exactly of anything anymore. He thought he heard the creature speaking in some bubbly, garbled language. He could hear him take another step, sensed as he placed all his weight onto his next step and crushed the needles and leafs and his foot sank into the mucky mud. He heard as his foot sank in, and with his eyes he watched as he took one step closer.

And then, he heard an ever so fateful, ever so silent, _'click.'_ He looked over to the source of the noise and found that the brunette had cocked her gun and had it at the ready.

There was a deep and heavy moments pause. The burning flashlight was still glaring down upon their position like a searchlight locked onto an escaping prisoner. His heart was pounding a mile a second. His fur was beginning to get damp from his sweat and the mud.

Again the alien spoke and took one more step closer to their location. Stoker, fighting off unconsciousness and the need to regurgitate his lunch, steadied the rock in his hand. The alien woman next to him prepared herself to fire. She had her finger on the trigger, had it pointed in the direction she wanted it, for a one-shot surprise kill. She was just applying pressure to it when the bushes behind them rattled and parted.

For lack of air Stoker found himself unable to so much as swear in surprise, but he did watch, wide-eyed, as a large moose crashed out from the vegetation and into the direction of the strange alien. Stoker and the alien woman rolled out of the way to prevent themselves from getting trampled on as it thundered by. As it crashed through their bush and towards the alien there was a shriek of surprise, an agitated bay from the moose, and then a gunshot going off. Stoker's heart leap into his throat as he laid sprawled some four feet from where he original had been. The searchlight was off of them though, and that was a weight off his mind, and the sound of hoofs hitting the ground and rushing off elsewhere into the pinewood let him know that the moose had gotten away alive at least, if not wounded.

The brunette had herself pressed firmly against the back of the gray tree truck of the pine, her sunglasses had slipped down the bridge of her nose and he could see her wide, stunned eyes as she stared off into the direction the moose had ran. Stoker heard some harsh strange words from the mouth of the alien on the other side of the bush, but his eyes never left the pale skinned woman.

Finally, the grumblings and alien curses of the creature began to fade away, and his footing retreated back to the crash land site. The shade-wearing lady reached up and pulled down her bandana and sighed, releasing all her tension and lowering her gun. Stoker too took a breath of air and realized that the cool, refreshing night air had returned, though not in full. The foul stench seemed to stain it, but it was slowly dwindling away.

The dark chocolate brown haired Martian pulled himself weakly to his feet, his body still ill from smelling that hideous ordure, and used a nearby pine to help him up. Gaining his footing, if a bit wobbly, he watched the back of the creature as he ambled away and realized, what with the light reflecting off of him and whatnot, that he looked…blue and scaly. Kind of fishy. He even had a fine running along the top of his head.

Stoker slide back down into their coverage and looked around at their little hiding spot. Throttle and Modo looked sicker than he could ever remember seeing them and Vinnie was knocked out on the ground, the stench apparently too much for the young kid.

"You two okay?" Stoker inquired as he crawled on hands and knees pass Modo and Throttle. He settled his muddy hand on both of their shoulders, demanding eye contact from them, a nod or a short 'will be' before moving on. The first of the three young mice he came to was Modo.

"I will be." The great mouse gurgled out through a sore throat. "Uh…can't remember the last time I ever felt so sick."

"When was the last time you were _ever_ sick?" Throttle joked back at Modo, though the laugh that he tried to get out of it turned into a wretched cough.

"You okay Rookie?" Stoker inquired as he moved away from Modo and towards Throttle and his charge. He had abandoned the rock back at the tree.

Throttle just mutely nodded his head and choked out a short series of more coughs. "Who was that?" He somehow managed to get out between coughs as Stoker fed him a couple slaps on the back before moving onto the unconscious Vinnie.

"Never mind who it was. What was that god awful stench?!" Modo piped up, waving the air before him as he covered his nose with the other.

"That my ah…friend, is what we call the stench of the universe." With a nod of her head the supposed leader of the group motioned to the fat plump of scales ambling off and whispered softly, "A Plutarkian." She then gave the three of them a glare over her sunglasses and said, "And you'd do well to keep your voices down! We're not out of the woods yet!"

"Heh, literally." Stoker muttered grimly as he picked up Vinnie out of the mud and rolled him over onto his back. Gently he began rubbing most of the mud and decaying leaves and pine needles out of his face and fur. As he worked he cast a quick glance into the two conscious alien women's direction and then back to Vinnie. "So, who are you exactly and what's this all about?"

"We're Earthers." The cyborg explained, her arm still raised up in the air, though she looked quite bored with doing it but maintained her pose only for the sake of their survival. "I'm Carissa."

"And I'm Amy." Offered the brunette as she tiptoed her way closer to them on her fingers and toes. With her head she nodded towards the woman in Throttle's lap and said, "That's Charley."

Stoker did a double take and stared at the women in disbelief. "Your _Earther's_? As in, you're from Earth?"

"Your not going to start this up too, are you?" Amy inquired softly with one eyebrow raised and the other pushed down. Her lips formed into an annoyed frown as she continued to say, "Tch, come on. You never honestly thought that you Martians were the only living things in this universe did you? Do you have any idea how completely, totally, and utterly arrogant that is?"

To that Stoker fumbled for words, trying to defend his position and eventually gave up, coming up with only a simple, lame, "Its not like I ever had time to think about it."

"Look," Amy said with a more reasonable and accepting tone upon realizing that she must have upset him, "I'll explain all this later but first we have to remain quiet and immobile. We can't go anywhere until they leave first."

"So how long is it going to take them to leave?" Modo inquired curiously.

Amy twisted her head slightly to look back over her shoulder and then back to them. "Well, given the fact that Plutarkians are sloppy to begin with, and that they're not being pressed into doing this by higher ups, I'd say they'd be gone shortly enough. But till then, no speaking, no moving. They could come back out looking for us and if they do, and they find us because of talking, we're in trouble. It was just luck that that moose stormed by. That stupid Plutarkian probably thought that that was what had been causing the noises."

"Lucky us." Stoker toned.

"Yes." Amy said, giving the elder Martian a stern look. "Lucky us, now quiet!" And to illustrate her point, she placed her finger to her lips. "Shhh."

There was a space of silence between them before Stoker decided to speak up again. "Ah…how long _exactly _do you think it'll be until they'll move out?" He whispered worriedly.

Amy and Carissa turned their heads back over to him and glared. "What word of, 'be quiet' don't you understand mouse-man?" Carissa snapped softly back at him irritably.

"I'm not sure." Amy whispered to him, then lifted one eyebrow above her shades and asked, "Why?"

Stoker's face twisted with guilt and anxiety as he explained, "Before they arrived I had called up my friend Rodney to come get us with his copter. If they see him will they, you know, shoot him down?"

Even in the darkness, Carissa and Amy's faces visibly paled at this revelation. Even without words, their expressions sealed Stoker's fears. If Rodney came he would die, all because of him.

Stoker eyes briefly jumped over to Throttle's where the honey-brown Martian was staring at him with wide, shocked eyes. Stoker couldn't stand the look, didn't want to see him or think of Throttle's reaction if he got his father killed – his best friend. In disgrace he dropped his eyes from the two alien women and back down to the unconscious Vinnie in his lap. He could only pray to a god that he didn't believe in that the Plutarkians would leave before Rodney arrived, or that Rodney wouldn't come at all.


	5. Chapter 5, Stirring the Pot

**Biker Women from Earth**

Rated Mature for crude language and sexual suggestions.

Authors Note: I do not own the Biker Mice from Mars and probably never will. That stated, for anybody reading this or about too, this is a **MIRRORVERSE**. That means that things – the BMFM reality- is flip-flopped from the actual cartoon cannon. Thus things will be a little wacky, a little weird, but ultimately fun and hilarious. At least I hope so. I plan to introduce several of these in my fanfics, but so far I only got this written for now. In this, the Plutarkians didn't invade Mars – but Earth! Apparently the scout ships sent out to investigate the system totally skipped over the barren planet – either because they didn't think anything interesting would be there or Earth just simply looked more promising. As it stands, three women Earthers take the place of the Biker Mice – two being my own characters – which I own – called Amy and Carissa. If you'd like to use them go ahead, but ask me first before you post any fics about them. Well, I don't want to spoil anything, so on with the fic. I hope you enjoy and please tell me what you think of it at the end. I'd love to know.

I would also like to thank everyone who has taken the time off to comment and review for my story. Thank you! Your comments keep me going!

A.A.N. – sorry this one took so long, what with school, my other fics, and a loss of my muse, it took me awhile to get this one out.

Oh yeah! Pth:: means Earth, um… well, what would be Martian if this was the normal cannon language. Also, keep an eye out for the references I make to other cartoon shows and movies and junk. (Wink, wink!)

* * *

**Chapter 5, Stirring the Pot**

A breeze wafted by smelling strongly of rain. Stoker stood his ground, allowing the chilly air to play against his fur and taking a deep breath of it to clear his anxious nerves. He closed his eyes momentarily against the breeze, only to open them again and search the dark horizon. Once again he found nothing, saw nothing, except the black rain clouds and forested valleys of reds, purple, and yellow trees far below.

A single raindrop fell from the sky and landed squarely on his nose. Stoker blinked, his eyes falling onto his muzzle as he tried to see the small wet spot, not that he succeeded. He was interrupted by another young Martian stepping up beside him.

"Hey, Stoker…" Inquired the voice of Throttle. The tone of his voice signaled that the young Martian was very concerned, his own yellow eyes scoured the dark horizon and red canyon walls for a helicopter that should have been there over an hour ago. "Do you think my dad's okay?"

Stoker glanced from Throttle, an exact replica of his father, and back out to the closed in valley before them. His own emotions were all twisted and wrapped up over that very issue. The Plutarkian war ship had left about two hours ago, leaving a rather dismantled space ship and their own van behind. Using either for shelter would be rather unpleasant, if not impossible, though if they sought to use either for a way off of the plateau that would have been a double negative.

"Rodney's a very capable mouse, Throttle. I'm sure–" A loud crash from behind silenced whatever else the graying haired Martian had to say on the matter and ripped both of their attentions off from the far horizon and they turned about. Stoker's eyebrow lifted as the two of them stood by, watching as another hefty piece of metal, whether scrap or equipment they did not know, was thrown out from the mangled starship and out into the open. Modo and Vinnie sat rather dejectedly in the trashed van, their own attention having been torn from their own private worries and to the wreak.

Unbeknownst to Stoker or Throttle, Amy had exited from the ship and made towards them. They just caught sight of the other alien known as Charley, of whom had awoken about forty minutes ago. She had just unceremoniously tossed the latest piece of scrap metal out from their wrecked ship.

One of Amy's eyebrows raised above her shades as she directed her attention onto the both of them. "It's been two hours now, Stoker! Since no one's spotted a blazing fire on the horizon I assume your friend isn't coming."

Stoker gave a sigh and cast yet another glance out to the forested valley below. A rather chilly breeze, though growing harsh, whipped by, accompanied by a few more raindrops. The smell of the storm, of rain, of thunder, of earth and stone was growing on the air. It would rain soon. "Your right, if Rodney was going to come he would have been here by now."

"So what are we going to do now Stoker?" Throttle inquired from beside the elder Martian.

Stoker glanced about, his eyes finally resting on the rocky roadway that they had used to get up here. "I would think that we either fine some suitable shelter to weather out the storm or we hit the road."

Amy jabbed a finger back over her shoulder towards their ship. Another crash from behind signaled the appearance of Charley and Carissa as they hefted out a rather chunky piece of…something into the growing pile. "Well, the ship's trashed and all but at least there's still a roof on it. It'll be cold without the internal thermo-pump working, but at least it's something."

"Don't you have any blankets or something? Heating?" Stoker inquired.

"Tch, yeah. And the Plutarkians left us some treats too to eat in the morning."

Stoker rubbed his eyes between his thumb and forefinger. He had suffered through worst things. He could get over this. "Alright, fine. So we bunk in your ship and figure out a way outta here when the storm clears."

"Ooh! We're having a slumber party?" Amy visibly cringed before she sighed and turned around to address a widely grinning Charley.

"Yeah." Amy grumbled out. "We're having a slumber party."

Charley eyed Stoker with her same Chestercat grin she had been giving her friend. "So which furball do I get as my pillow?"

"Knock it off." Amy grumbled once again, which got her a look from the taller Charley. The redhead watched her as she stomped her way back to the ship. "Geez, what's the matter with you? Something I said?"

"Is she always that grumpy?" Throttle inquired when he thought that the Earther was out of earshot.

Charley shot her green eyes over from the back of her apparent captain and to the honey brown furred Martian. He had a rough beauty about him that made him quite a darling. Charley smiled. "Aw, only when she's stressed out or upset. She'll be fine." A bright strip of lightening ripped the sky in the distance, drawing their attention to it. Charley glanced off in its direction for a bit and waited for the roar of its thunder to roll over them before she continued. "We better get inside. Looks like it's gonna rain soon."

No sooner had the words left her cherry lips than the first sparse drops of rain began to fall in a gradual multitude of numbers, but even as the rain began to fall the three of them stood still, Stoker and Throttle's eyes diverted to the dark skies and Charley's on them. After a few priceless moments the redhead finally sighed and said, the rain beginning to dampen her hair to her head, "Look, your friend just isn't coming. If I got a call like that–"

Another streak of lightening light up the sky off in the far distance. From the little light that it gave off it illuminated a small, almost bug-like dot against the dark clouds. Throttle and Stoker's eyes instantly locked onto the target, trying to see it clearer against the darkness of night.

"Stoker!" Throttle called out excitedly, the rain beginning to pour more heavily now down upon them with each passing second. His finger snapped out, pointing to the dot they had seen only briefly. "Did you see that?"

Stoker's eyes were bright with excitement. "You bet your tail I did! Rodney came after all!"

* * *

The odd collection of Martian and Earthers watched from the dry safety of the Biker Women's damaged ship as his helicopter grew ever closer and closer, fighting against wind and rain to reach their position. Throttle and Stoker practically clung to the archway of the door, allowing the rain to dampen their fur all just too watch Rodney's approach. Throttle's young, innocent eyes were wide with anticipation, fearful that the rough weather might smash his father's vessel into the canyon wall and kill him or if he would reach them safely. Stoker wrestled with more or less the same situation. After a nerve-wracking, silent twenty minutes, asides from the crash of rainfall on the Earther vessel and the howling winds, Rodney finally arrived at the plateau and landed, albeit a bit roughly.

Sighing in gratification and praising god, Throttle ran forward as the helicopter's blades powered down. Stoker was right on his tail followed after by Modo, Vinnie, and three rather hesitant Earthers. In fact the Biker Women didn't follow immediately at all. Charley started after them but Amy grabbed her taller companion's shoulder and pulled her right back into the interior of the ship and out of the rain.

::Charley!:: Amy hissed in their Earther language as she yanked the woman back into the vessel and turned her around. Charley blinked her green eyes at her smaller friend, wondering why she was so upset this time. ::What do you think your doing?::

::Tch, duh!:: The pale-skinned woman replied as she flipped her wrist over towards the door. ::Gonna go meet this 'Rodney' they keep talking about.::

Amy shook her head and then dropped it into the palm of her hand. She covered her eyes, forcing her black shades to slip further up her forehead as she continued to shake her head, then rubbed her eyes tiredly. When was the last time she had slept peacefully::Charley...:: Amy moaned at length::This is getting to be too much! We can't let so many Martians know about us! What if they try and turn us over to the authorities, huh? How will we ever be able to get back to Earth then?::

::How are we ever going to get back to Earth _**now**_?:: Carissa interjected, crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned up against a nearby wall.

::I can repair the ship.:: Charley threw in hopefully, bouncing from Amy's eyes, once more covered by her sunglasses, from Carissa and back to her again. The redhead smiled sheepishly at them both and shrugged her shoulders, saying::Of course it's going to take a long time. And I mean a loooong time.::

Amy did not look enthused. ::Maybe if you had repaired it when I had asked you too…::

::Look,:: Carissa said, cutting Amy off before she could say any rude words that would damage their friendship. She placed her arms around both Charley and Amy's shoulders and drew them close together in a huddle. The cyborg looked to both of them as she said::The best option we have now is just to follow these guys. They seem nice –so far. If they do decide to turn on us though we'll just blast our way out of it like we always do. Kay?::

Amy nodded slowly and released a tired, stressed sigh. ::Yeah. Yeah, alright.::

::Eesh. You're about as skeptical as that old Martian mouse-man. Speaking of which,:: Charley said as she took a peek outside of the ship and shielded her eyes against the heavy rain. ::Looks like the newcomer and Stoker are talking. Guess we better go introduce ourselves huh?::

::Saddle up.:: Amy said as she, Carissa, and then Charley started a bit of a ways back into the dry interior of the ship and grabbed their motorcycles. The three ladies slipped onto their machines and threw their helmets on over their heads. ::And lets rock and ride!::

* * *

"Stoker…" Rodney spoke as the grown Martian stepped out from his vehicle and into the rain. The Martian's body fur was a fading honey brown color that had dulled through his age into a dusty-brown shade while his actual hair had faded to blond. It reached a bit past his shoulders and was pulled back into a ponytail while his bangs were left in a wild mess, much like his son's. He was dressed in his military suit, complete with dusty Martian red cargo pants, black boots, brown long sleeved shirt and a red vest. He also wore black, fingerless gloves and a silver chain around his neck that disappeared beneath his clothes. It was his dog tag of course, Throttle, Stoker, and everyone knew that.

Rodney's red colored eyes were fixated upon the large ship wreckage and felled tress that the helicopter lights were directed on through the rain and wind. The look on his face spoke volumes. He was in shock, and not quite sure where to start. He had thought Stoker was pulling his tail, at least, to an extent. He would never have staked letting him have the chance to rip out his tail and give it over to Bodda, Modo's mom, to cook and serve it back to old Stoker with bread and cheese. He hadn't even considered coming at all, but he had.

And he was glad that he did.

Stoker was right, he probably would call in sick tomorrow.

"Stoker…" Rodney repeated as the group rushed up to him through the darkness, gloom, and rain. Throttle practically threw himself at his father, wrapping him arms around him in a large bear hug. "Dad! You're safe!"

"Hello Rodney, sir." Modo cheered and smiled fondly at Throttle's father, of to whom, like Stoker, seemed like his own. His own father had fought and died honorably on the battlefield against some Sand Raiders long before he was born. He never knew him except from photos and old war stories from Stoker and Rodney. His mother had raised him alone, along with his other siblings, at least to an extent. Stoker and Rodney were always right there for him and Bodda whenever she needed it. It was how he had met Throttle actually. Vinnie though… Stoker met Vinnie first. The young white Martian mouse had moved to Chicago with his mother, Sally, when they were still young. She had had mechanical problems with her car and had come across the Last Chance Garage, where of course the three close friends had eventually met and forged their steely friendship. But that was another story…

Rodney, one of his unofficially adopted fathers, next to Stoker, had just rescued them! Vinnie fell in line close behind the large grey mouse at the back of the group, as always, smiling cheerily at the bedazzled Martian mouse. "Hey Rodney! You've rescued us at last!"

Apparently Vinnie had been thinking what Modo had been thinking, at least to an extent.

Throttle's hold on his father broke the older Martian from his trance to some extent and he blinked, looking down at his rather drenched son with a bit of shock and confusion. "Throttle?" He toned as if he didn't even recognize him. "Boys? What's going on? What's that?"

"That would be that Earther starship I told you that had crashed." Stoker said, grinning, as he stepped up next to his friend and grabbed the handle bar on the helicopter, hosting himself up as he made way to step inside the dry interior of the vessel. But he didn't step in immediately. He paused to see Rodney's flabbergasted look.

"What?!" The other aging Martian practically shrieked. He had rather been looking forward to seeing Stoker eat his own tail. Well, not really, but it would have been one for the books.

The roar of motorcycles reached their oversized ears through the downpour of rain and the whistling winds. The five Martians turned about, their attention diverting over to the three bright lights heading towards them. Rodney felt his heart beat faster and he froze. Throttle had since let go of him and stood beside his wide-eyed father, smiling slightly as the Biker Women pulled to a stop before the group, at least two of them. Charley on the red racer continued forward and then slammed the brakes, surfing through the slippery, mushy ground with little friction to stop. Throttle jumped backward with Modo and Vinnie behind him as the red racing bike barreled right for them. There alarm and shouts of fright and 'watch out' was drowned out by the storm in short order, not that it was needed. The bike, and the racer, stopped a mere inch from running over Throttle's feet. The three young Maritain's stared wide-eyed at the woman sitting on the bike. She lifted one pale skinned hand and deactivated the visor shielding her flat face. It was, of course, Charley. She grinned from ear to ear at them and leaned forward, saying as she wiggled her brows together, "How was that?"

"That was amazing!" Vinnie blurted out before he could contain himself. He grinned sheepishly as reproving eyes reverted and locked onto him. The shy white mouse managed to squeak out afterwards, "I, uh, do you think you could do it again?"

Charley was opening her mouth to reply when Carissa snapped out from behind, "Show off!"

Charley whipped herself around in her seat and grinned back at her companions, only that earned her a helmet full of water and she spluttered, frantically reaching to raise the shield back up before she ended up drowning inside her own helmet. The two other women laughed, accompanied by small snickers from their recently acquired friends, except Rodney. He stared on the spectacle in astonishment. Slowly he turned to Stoker beside him and inquired simply, "The female Earthers?"

Stoker nodded. "The female Earthers."

Rodney stumbled back inside his helicopter, looking on the three Biker Women in speechlessness as he tried to decide what to do. No where in any of his military training had it covered what to do when he met a bunch of Earthers.

Luckily he didn't have to act. Stoker acted for him, if that could be considered a sign of luck that is.

Stoker hopped aboard the vessel, his clothing and fur dripping wet. He patted one wet hand on Rodney's shoulder, soaking his vest with his water matted paw…err, hand. Rodney flickered his eyes over into Stoker's direction for a minute and caught his wide grin. "What's the matter Captain? Rat got your tongue? Come on and introduce yourself then let us aboard! I wanna get back to my nice warm bed ASAP."

Rodney spluttered at this, trying to get a word out but failing. He looked down helplessly as Throttle, Vinnie, and Modo jumped about, dripping wet and adding to the growing puddle of muck and water on the copter floor. The three strange women had abandoned their bikes and were coming board themselves, and hefting their bikes with them.

Rodney blinked at that. Yes, they were lifting their bikes, some three hundred pound machines, and setting them onboard his vessel.

He never knew women could be so strong, but seeing as how Earth was closer to the sun, he guessed it had something to do with the heavier gravity they had there.

The first one up into his ship was the designated 'show off' with her red racing motorcycle. Once she got it aboard she took off her helmet and shook her head, letting her auburn hair swing free from its confines. Rodney stared at her face, mouth agape at not only how different she was from them, but at her face as well. Charley grinned at the mouse-man and chirped, "Hey ya! The name's Charley." Her grin only spread further across her face as she leaned toward him, causing the nervous Martian to step back at her proximity. A million things were shooting off in his head at that moment. They were aliens, did they have dangerous germs? Were they decontaminated? Were the boys okay? What would he do if they fell sick? What if Throttle died? Or Vinnie? Or Modo? Or Stoker? Good Lord, his wife was going to kill him, that was of course if he didn't die first from any alien disease.

"I know I'm gorgeous and all, babe." Charley said and lifted her pale hand. With one finger she shut his gaping mouth closed. "But it's not nice to gape. Staring though, that's fine as long as it's not _too_ intent…"

"Good gawd, Charley!" Amy snapped from outside as she forcefully started moving her motorcycle onboard. "Move your hormone-ragging aft outta the way and let us on! We're getting drenched out here!"

"Yeah! Don't make me redecorate your face plate again!" Carissa added in, her own one good eye glaring as best she could, which was still nicely done, with a bit of red light.

Amy turned momentarily to Rodney and performed a causal salute, not that she knew he was a captain, but simply because she had her other hand full with getting her bike aboard and she so chose to. "Amy's the name, fly-mouse. Your Rodney I take it?"

Vinnie's ears twitched as he turned upon the human climbing aboard. He had been, like Throttle, Modo, and Stoker, wiping themselves down with towels that Stoker had produced from a locker nearby. His antenna twitched as he blinked, looking at the brunette curiously. He hadn't thought he heard her correctly. "Did you just say 'aft?'"

Amy glanced up at him, her dark and exhausted eyes showing out from beneath her shades. Her helmet had been removed and tossed aboard as soon as she had climbed inside. "What? Oh, yeah." She replied, her voice, for once, going a bit sheepish. She grinned at him and added, "I'm a major Transfan freak. I can't get enough of that stuff. You Martians are geniuses when it comes to cartoons. At least with the old stuff that is. That new _junk, _and I mean no offense to junk in anyway, you claim is cartoons just _reeks_!"

Vinnie's eyes went wide at this. "Serious?! I love Transformers!"

"Really?"

"Oh please! Don't get her started! God, she's so obsessed with it she's replaced actual swearing with their swearing so she won't break her own 'personal code.' How lame is that!" Carissa bit as she came onto the helicopter practically carrying her motorcycle one handed with her cybernetic arm. She carefully sat it down than turned to Rodney and extended her dripping wet, bionical arm. "Hey. The name's Carissa, what's yours mouse-man?"

Rodney took the extended contraption before him with a bit of uncertainty and finally managed to choke out, "R-Rodney. Captain Rodney of the team squadron Phobos."

"That's wonderful." Carissa said a bit darkly and turned to her companion's and began moving her bike to the back. "So when do we leave Captain?"

"Right now, preferably." Stoker finally cracked in and stepped up next to Rodney. His fur was ruffled up from wiping himself down with the towel. It looked like he had bed fur, or just a really bad case of bad hair. The older Martian tossed himself into the co-pilot's seat of the helicopter and sat there, his arms stretched up back behind his head and one leg thrown haphazardly over the arm. This tail was wrapped casually around the base of the chair. Despite his rookish-pose a serious frown was plastered over his furry face. His eyes glowed strangely in the darkness as his eyes alighted upon Rodney. "The ladies here were shot down by, ah…what did you call those stink fishes again? Pludarkians?"

"No. Plu_tarkians_." Amy corrected as she, like Charley and Carissa, came forward. The younger mice stayed sitting towards the back against the wall in some passenger seats, staring upon the confrontation with perked mouse-ears raised as to the results.

"Right. Plutarkians. Anyway, they came looking for the ladies here after the crash about… what? Two, three hours ago? How long has it been since I called you?"

"Two hours." Rodney supplied. "Approximately. Perhaps a little more."

Stoker nodded shortly and went back to saying, "Yeah. Two hours ago. I wanna leave as fast as we can, and as safely as we can. No telling if they'll be coming back."

Rodney's eyes flashed with alarm at this, and he glanced from Stoker to the Biker Women, rested there for a long moment, and then back again. "You know Stoker, you get me into more trouble than I could ever do alone."

Stoker just grinned and moved his hands out from behind his head, spreading them wide as if he meant for Rodney to jump him and give him a huge hug. Not that the Captain of the revered squadron Phobos moved an inch to do so. "Aw…nice to know I'm still needed for something."

"Can it, Stok. What the hell are we going to do with _them_?!" Rodney stressed, waving a hand frantically in the Biker Women's direction. The three ladies stood their ground, watching the spectacle quietly as Rodney' fear melted away into confusion and frustration. Amy was leaning to one side, her arms folded over her chest while Carissa and Charley more or less mimicked her, or she mimicked them. Or Carissa and Amy mimicked Charley or Charley mimicked Amy and Carissa or……

"Do you realize how serious this matter is? It's not like we can just take them back to my house and present them to Gadget like some tramp we found lost on the street!"

"Hey!" Charley spat in, catching the two Martian's attention for a second. "We're ladies! Not tramps! Haven't you seen the movie?"

Stoker and Rodney blinked. Throttle, Modo, and Vinnie snickered at the back of the helicopter.

Stoker turned to Rodney and said, smiling a bit, "Well, you heard the lady. Apologize."

"Right," Rodney said, glancing at Charley with one eyebrow raised and said, "Like _ladies_ we found lost on the street. Not tramps. Happy?"

Charley smiled foolishly and said, her arms crossed, "Yes! Much better!" Amy stared at her friend with her mouth agape and contorted into a look of horror, or utter shock while Carissa just shook her head, also looking slightly disgusted with their tall companion.

"Anyway," Rodney began, looking to Stoker, "I can't just present them to Gadget and say, 'Hey honey! It's raining Earthers! Can we keep them?'"

A series of snickering and giggles erupted throughout the copter, including from the Biker Women themselves. Stoker shook his head to clear away his fit of laughter and said, "Nah, your right. We can't take them to your house. Gadget would freak, and then she'd tell Bodda _and_ Sally. Then from there only god knows who would find out."

"Then where are they going to stay? It's not like they can stay at their ship! It's totaled!" Rodney paused for a second at that in his mid-rant, turned to the three Biker Women and inquired, "It is totaled isn't it?" They answered with an unanimous nods of agreement. "Right." Rodney said, then turned back on the lax Stoker and went back into his fit. "It's _**totaled! **_Where are they going to sleep? Who's going to feed them? What about keeping them out of public eye until they can…uh," Rodney waxed off in his tirade once more and turned upon the ladies and looked at them sharply. "How _exactly_ did you ladies plan on getting off of this planet and back to err… _your_ home world? God," he breathed and rolled his eyes, looking to the ceiling above and listening to the hard striking of rain coming from just outside. "I can't believe I said that."

The Biker Women glanced from each other, their rather amused expressions changing into ones of sad reflection. With a sigh Amy looked back to the taller Rodney and said at length, "We're not sure when or even _if _we're going to be able to get off of your world, Rodney. And if we do somehow make it back to Earth, we're not even sure if we were going to stay."

"What?" Rodney piped up, his features turning up into concern. "And why would you _not _want to stay back on your home world?"

"Because," the brunette explained, sighing once again. If at all possible she looked even more exhausted than before, almost as if she wanted to collapse. In fact Stoker and Rodney wondered what was keeping the woman up. "Those Plutarkians we just mentioned, the ones that had shot us down? Well, they destroyed Earth and our people." Her shades dropped down the bridge of her nose as she stared up at the two Martians with eyes as dark as night and as cold and sad as the bottom of the sea – a rather dark green sea. "We were heading back to Earth to see if…well, we were the _last_."

It took Rodney and Stoker, in fact all of them, a few seconds to figure out what that meant. When it finally dawned on them what she was talking about a round of cries consisting of gasps, 'Whats!' and stunned expressions greeted the three women standing before them. Rodney stared at the ladies in slack-jawed shock. After a few seconds had passed at the height of the rattled atmosphere Rodney inquired, breathing out in disbelief, "You mean… you three are the last of your species?"

Amy shrugged her shoulders, her gaze going to the ground and looking downright sure of their fate despite what she said. "I suppose. There may be others out there… in slavery, but on Earth…"

"How?" Stoker said, startled by the news and sitting upright in the chair, one hand on it for support in his endeavor, and staring at them. Their gazes met his. Even Charley's energetic mood had been soured. "How can an entire race be wiped out so thoroughly…cleanly? That doesn't sound possible at all."

Amy slowly shook her head, her exhaustion at last overcoming. She turned her back on their companions, their only allies on this world, and started off for a chair that was close beside her bike. She had mumbled out a soft, tired, "Not now. Just…not now." As her excuse for leaving the conversation for not wanting to answer that question.

Not now.

Rodney and Stoker stared after the brunette as she took a seat and rested her tired head against the wall. Her fingers fumbled with her seatbelt as if on automatic. Miraculously she managed to get herself strapped in. Both vets doubted that she was even awake anymore. From her still and silent form they guessed she might have fallen asleep right on the spot, or was just a very immobile person.

Their gazes fell onto the two remaining Earthers, who stared after their leader with saddened expressions. Their own hearts opened up to them then, even Rodney's who had been filled with suspicion and fear before and Stoker, who knew they meant well, at least for the time being. Now, both were clear on their objective. Unamnionously they both decided that they would do whatever they could in their power to help this distressed damsels of war and waning vigor.

"My place." Stoker said of a sudden, drawing attention back to him. His yellow eyes locked with Charley's as he said, restating his words to her quizzical expression. "My place. They can stay with me. I don't have a family to hide them from, only the occasional customer that decides to drop by."

"That's brilliant, Stoker! Your Garage is out of the way of the city. Hardly anybody lives there anymore anyway! It'll be like they weren't even here!"

"Wait, so we're going to be living at your Garage?" Charley inquired, an eyebrow raised.

"At least for the time being until we can find you ladies a better place to stay." Stoker explained. "How about it? I have an extra room there with a nice warm bed. I could bring out some extra pillows and blankets for you ladies and there's food too. When was the last time you escapees had any decent food? Or a good bath for that matter?"

"You saying I stink like a Plutarkian, mouse-man?" Carissa bit back at him, her eye narrowing at Stoker dangerously.

"No." Stoker said quickly. "I wasn't implying that you ladies reeked, only that my place is a good place to take five and freshin' up. Get some R and R. How long have you ladies been on the run from these Plutarkians?"

"Eh…too long." Carissa moaned, casting her gaze to the ground than to the ceiling above. Her arms were crossed and she was shaking her head. "Too long."

"About a year actually." Charley supplied. "That's how long its been since last we were on Earth."

"A year? Wow. Alright, so my place it is then? How about it Rodney?"

"I already cast my vote." Rodney said as he threw his hands onto his hips and turned to Stoker. "Its your place or no place for these biker chicks."

"Good then. Let's get out of here than before those murdering bastards come back and finish off the job they left undone."

* * *

High up above Mars orbiting the planet just out of radar detection and using the moon of Phobos as a shield from view, was the very Plutarkian war ship that had shot down the Biker Women from orbit. The commander of the vessel, along with the trained communication specialist, sat before the onboard planetary communication board in the dim darkness of the vessel. Plutarkians, unlike other creatures such as the people of Earth, didn't care too much for light. It hurt their overly sensitive eyes and so they preferred the darkness, which was just fine when they could see an enemy wandering about fruitlessly in the dark of their ship and they could.

The communication specialist primed the equipment for communication then turned to his superior, who stood hovering over him like a vulture over a dying desert wanderer, and reported sharply in their bubbly, gurgling language, "Ready for transmission sir!"

"Good. Now open up a channel to Lawrence Lactiavius Limburger of Chicago. I need to have a word with him concerning the Earther Drone Thunderpike we shot down two hours ago."

"Yes sir."

Within moments the channel was open and the Commander was greeted by a sight of a dark room on the monitor, with a sleeping Plutarkian in the bed snoring away peaceably. The Commander grinned a toothy grin, revealing rows of sharp pointed teeth. He rather enjoyed ruining people's days… or nights. Whichever one it was, it didn't matter to him.

"Limburger!" The Commander shouted into the voice com and watched smugly as the plump Plutarkian jerked awake out of his sleep. He had been startled so badly that he went and fell right out of his bed.

_What? Who?_ The fat turquoise Plutarkian with dark blue downward 'V' marks on his chest and arms inquired as he popped his head over the top of his bed. He took note of the full screen monitor then and the glowering Commander and seemed to calm a little, though his irritation was hardly covered. _Ah, and um, who might I inquire are you and the purpose for your late night call?_

"I'm the commander of the Plutarkian warship _Delta Sea_. That's all you need to know. As for my reasons as for calling, I decided to be charitable and warn you personally of a threat that may crop up in your region of Mars."

He watched as one of Limburger's eyebrow's perked at this. _And what exactly is this threat you speak of, Commander?_

"My crew and I intercepted and shot down an Earther Drone Thunderpike approximately two hours ago. Our scanners had showed us that there were three individuals onboard but my crew found no trace of them at the crash site except motorcycle tracks leading off onto the main road. Seeing as how they crashed just outside of your district, I felt that I should give you a heads up. We're sending you the coordinates now."

_Well thank you, Commander. Now if you don't mind I'd like to go back to sleep. If any of your fairy Earthers pop up I'll be sure to direct them back over to what's left of their miserable planet._

The Commander glowered at Limburger for daring to speak at him like so but before he even had a chance to say anything Limburger unceremoniously cut the line. The communication specialist scoffed at the amount of rudeness this Lawrence Limburger had just shown to his Commander. "Does he even realize the importance of this information?"

"I don't care. The worm-sucking aristocrat can be burned at Pike's Point for all I care. If the Earthers make it to Chicago they're his problem now." With that the Commander started to walk away, stomping to show for his foul mood, but he hesitated and glanced over his shoulder to the other officer. "I just had a thought," he mused to the other foul-smelling Plutarkian, "If this Limburger ever seeks to get assistance for the riddance of these three Earthers in any of his affairs from the Plutarkian government or military, I want it noted that he had been warned ahead of time."

"Yes sir." The younger Plutarkian garbled back to his Commander then watched as he departed the deck. He shook his head, his fin on top of his head swaying with the motion. He sort of felt sorry for the Plutarkian, but not completely. He had been asking for it what with the way he spoke to the Commander. Now, as he filed in the report on the forewarning to the Plutarkian archives, Limburger would realize the folly of doing such, awoken from bed or not. Now, if he did ever seek to get rid of the three Earthers if they had survived the crash and if they did interfere in any of his or other Plutarkian affairs on Mars, the sole blame and cost of the trouble would go directly to him.

Within his private quarters Lawrence Limburger grumbled incoherently to himself and scrambled back in bed, rightly ignoring the large screen T.V. as it went blank and began to pull itself back up into its hidden location in the ceiling. He had only just snuggled down beneath the warm blankets and pillows, listening to the sweet pitter-patter of rain outside, when his eyes shot right back open. They glowed eerily in the light, not that anybody was around to see, or else they would have screamed. He sat bolt upright, holding the blankets to him as he stared horror-struck at the place where the T.V. had been a moment ago.

"Wait! Commander, did you–" It was of course too late, he himself had hung up in his dazed, tired state of mind.

Limburger sat in his bed staring into the darkness, staring at the blank wall ahead of him. Earthers? Here? On Mars? Three of them? His mind whirled, turning back some years ago to the Plutarkian Occupation of Mars. No, no…nononononono. Earthers were extinct. Or at least becoming extinct. There was no possible way that they could be on Mars. Perhaps some other alien species had gotten a hold of one of their ships. Yes, that was it exactly. Earthers weren't on Mars.

That was impossible.

There species was extinct… or at least dangerously close to it.

Still rattled, Limburger rested himself back down o go to sleep but the plump Plutarkian didn't achieve it or some long hours. He remained awake, his mind awhirl as he listened to the rain outside increase in ferocity.


End file.
